


Forget Me Not

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Happy Ending, Hurt Peter Parker, M/M, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter is Spiderman, Smut, Starker, Tony Stark is Ironman, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-01-30 13:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 43,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21429280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: Tony wants to talk to Spiderman and tries to catch him, but ends up hurting him, instead - and then has to deal with the consequences of what he's done
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 156
Kudos: 627





	1. Chapter 1

Peter Parker stood on the roof of the tall building, watching the city below him, idly.

He was watching for trouble, yes, but wasn't really expecting anything too interesting to happen. It was a Wednesday night, and it was late. The honest people were already home and in bed, sleeping and getting themselves refreshed for the next workday. Those who were _more_ dishonest were either skulking in doorways, plotting their next move, or had already done it, and were in _their_ lairs, as well, counting their loot if they’d succeeded, or licking their proverbial wounds if they hadn’t.

Weekdays didn’t tend to be too busy, but that was fine with Peter.

He was silent, and hidden in the darkness of the rooftop. Dressed in his homemade Spiderman suit – a third incarnation that was made of spandex and sweats, with a better fitting mask – he blended fairly well into the shadows and simply watched to see if anything was going to present itself to him that may need resolution.

So far it was quiet.

Peter _liked_ being Spiderman. He didn’t have any illusions of grandeur; he wasn't flashy like Tony Stark’s Ironman, and he wasn't a hero like Steve Rogers’ Captain America. He definitely didn’t compete with the Hulk in size (being fairly scrawny and looking fifteen when he was, in fact just past _eighteen_, now) and he obviously couldn’t wield lighting bolts like Thor. But he was _helping_. Even if it was the little stuff, and nothing too exciting.

It cut into his social life, but he admittedly didn’t have much of one to cut into, anyway, and that was the truth. And sometimes staying out late made him tired the next day, but he handled his classes with no problem, and had allowed Ned to convince him that he didn’t really need a job – being Spiderman was his job.

><><><><><>< 

“You’ve got the trust fund, Peter,” Ned had pointed out. “Live off that while you’re in school, and decide what you want to do once you’ve graduated. Relax and enjoy your college days like a normal person would.”

Easy for _Ned_ to say, Peter had thought. He had a lot of friends and was far more social than Peter. Both of them had been self-described nerds in high school, but Ned had turned it into cool when they’d graduated and headed to college – still right there in New York. Peter had become even more introverted – Ned said it was because he always had to keep his secret, and was just in the habit of staying clear of any kind of relationship with people he didn’t know, and Peter knew he was probably right.

Peter wasn't a normal person, and hadn’t been since he was fourteen – if he even was, _then_, before he’d been bitten and gained the abilities that he had, now. Abilities that had only grown as Peter had, and had become more developed the more he used them and grew competent with them.

He didn’t mind, though. Ned had a lot more friends, now, but Peter knew the other was there for him if he needed anything, and was always willing to invite him to a party, or a movie night. Even if Peter didn’t always have time to go. Swinging through the tall buildings was exhilarating, and Peter wouldn’t have traded it for all the friends and parties in the world.

Even if Ned was the only one who actually knew what he could do.

><><><><>> 

He was pulled from his introspection by a motion on the street below.

A dark figure was running across the well-lit street and then dodged into an alley to the side. Peter moved on the roof to watch, just as another figure – bigger, but equally fast – came running after the man, silently chasing him. Peter frowned and moved, again, jumping from the building’s roof and sticking to the side of the one on the end of the block.

The man running was breathing hard; soft scared noises coming with each ragged breath. Peter watched as he ran almost directly under where he perched, and a few moments later the other ran by, as well. He wasn't even breathing heavily, and he was still silent. It made Peter curious, because if the chaser was a _police officer_, he should have been yelling for the man to stop, or radioing for backup.

This man was silently chasing. Methodically hunting his quarry.

Peter moved again, deciding. He swung himself into a position, still hiding in the darkness of the alley, and as the man being chased passed under him, once more, this time close enough that Peter’s excellent vision could let him see that his eyes were wide with fear, the boy struck, his hand snapping out to unleash a string of webbing at the pursuer, tripping him up and making him tumble.

“What the-“

Surprisingly agile for his size, the man was back on his feet in an instant, looking around. Peter didn’t wait. His main intention had been to allow the guy being chased a chance to escape, and cause a distraction. Another flick of his wrist, and the man found his arm stuck to the dumpster.

Peter was going to hit him with one more – just because it didn’t seem to be holding him too solidly – when a flash of light across the sky caught his eye. He felt his heart race, recognizing the Ironman suit, and then felt a stab of fear when he noticed that the light’s trajectory would bring the Avenger right to his position.

With a startled sound, Peter swung himself up and headed for the other alley, using the darkness to get away. Ironman was there, after all. He’d make sure the guy doing the chasing wasn't going to be chasing anyone else, he was sure. Ironman didn’t need Peter Parker to get in his way.

“Hey! Come back here…”

He ignored the yell of the man he’d pinned and ducked into another alley, then used an upper window to get into a building just as he heard the thrusters of the Ironman suit somewhere in the alley behind him.

><><><><> 

Ironman came in for a landing in the alley just as Steve Rogers was freeing himself from the webbing with a sharp knife.

“What happened?” Tony asked, frowning, as the helmet retracted. “Did you get him?”

“No.” Steve’s expression was confused and chagrined. “I was _got_, instead.”

“What _is_ this stuff?” Stark asked, reaching out and taking a handful of the webbing in his still gauntleted hand. “Goo?”

“No clue. Some guy in a crazy costume just shot it at me and took off.”

“What? Why would he do that?”

Rogers shrugged.

“Why don’t you find him so we can ask him?”

“It was _Spiderman_,” came a voice from the dark.

Both men looked over as Natasha Romanoff walked into the light. With her was the man Steve had been chasing. He was slightly bedraggled, and maybe there was a bruise on his cheek, but he was also firmly secured with his hands bound in front of him, and the firearm that he’d been carrying now in Natasha’s hand, instead.

“Who?”

The assassin rolled her eyes at the confused look on the faces of both men. They were cute, and brilliant – each in their own right – but boy were they _dumb_, sometimes.

“_Spiderman_,” she repeated. “You guys should watch more YouTube.”

Tony frowned, looking at the goo, again.

“What?”

“He’s a low-level vigilante,” she said. “Saving the little guys in Queens for several years, now. Hides in the dark, leaves bad guys stuck to the walls in a neat little package for the police.”

“What was he doing getting in our way?” Tony asked, annoyed.

He hated amateurs who thought they could be superheroes.

“Probably thought Steve was the bad guy,” she said with a smirk. “He _does_ have beady eyes, after all…”

“There isn’t anything beady about my eyes,” Rogers said, amused at being teased.

There weren’t a lot of people who dared to tease him like that, after all.

Romanoff shrugged.

“If you say so.”

She handed her prisoner over to Rogers, and the two headed back the way they’d come. Tony looked at the stuff in his hand. Then he activated his helmet, again.

“FRIDAY? Do you see him?”

_“He’s gone.”_

“What is this stuff?” he asked.

_“Analyzing.”_

A molecular chain came up on his HUD, and Tony frowned.

“Pretty impressive…”

_“Yes. It’s apparently designed to dissolve over time.”_

“Really? Huh.” He tries wiping the stuff off his glove, but it stuck to him, no matter how much he shook his hand. Then he tried wiping it off onto the wall, but that didn’t work, either. It _was_ sticky. “I want to have a talk with Spiderman,” Tony said – more to himself, of course, than the others, since they were gone. “We don’t want him getting in our way, again.”

FRIDAY didn’t reply, and Tony deactivated the glove, watched the sticky goo fall to the ground, and then reactivated his glove and shot into the sky. They had a terrorist to hand over to Homeland, and then he wanted to go home and put his feet up, have a drink and do some research.

It was going to be a YouTube night, apparently.


	2. 2

Peter was home not too much later, feeling a little off-kilter.

Not that he was afraid of Ironman – the guy had no reason to come looking for him, after all, but he was very good at keeping his identity to himself and wanted it to stay that way. The Avengers didn’t have anything to do with someone like him.

But he’d avoid them when he could.

It didn’t come up, often; they rarely came to Queens, but he’d be more careful in the future.

><><><><>< 

“You look annoyed…”

Tony scowled, looking over at Nick Fury and not bothering to deny it.

“Because I _am_.”

“Yeah? What’s going on? Did you only make a billion dollars today instead of a trillion?”

“No, it was probably a _trillion_. Pepper’s very good at making me money.”

The SHIELD director sat down at the table Tony was at.

“What, then?”

“I’m trying to catch Spiderman.”

The one eye he could see squinted a little, and looked at the tablet Tony had been studying.

_“Who?”_

Tony rolled his eyes, still annoyed.

“Spiderman. It’s what people call him.”

“_What_ people?”

“The ones in _Queens_. He’s a low-level guy – _maybe_ – who wants to be a superhero.”

“What do you mean?”

“He swings around Queens, catching purse grabbers, muggers, jaywalkers… little stuff like that. Then he vanishes into the dark without stopping to talk to anyone in authority – although he’s willing to talk to the people.”

“Sounds like he’s helpful.”

“He’s a _menace_.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he’s a do-gooder who does good and doesn’t ask for a reward, Nick.”

“And…?”

“And if someone isn’t asking for the reward in _public_, then he must be getting rewarded behind the scenes. I want to know what ‘s in it for him.”

“Maybe he just wants to _help people_.” Fury shrugged. “Not _everyone_ wants to be a superstar…”

Tony graced him with a _how stupid can you be?_ look.

“Of course they do. Even if they won’t admit it.”

“You’re too cynical, Tony.”

“You’re too _naïve_.”

Fury shrugged, not willing to get into a verbal sparring match with the billionaire.

“If you’re that interested, find him and ask him.”

“Weren’t you listening?” Tony asked, grumpily. “I’ve been _trying_ to find him, but I can’t. He’s like some kind of freaky ninja, or something. I get a lock on him in the suit, and go looking for him, and suddenly FRIDAY can’t find him. He’s _gone_.”

“Did you try getting a giant glass and putting it upside down over him?”

Tony scowled.

“Cute.”

Fury’s smirk was amused. He thought he was, yeah. Instead of saying it, though, he shrugged.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe he’s more than one person.”

“No. I checked the footage they have of him – and the few that I’ve managed to record the last month, or so. It’s the same guy. Same build, same movements. He just swings away and vanishes before I can talk to him.”

“Maybe you need a web option on your suit,” the director said, standing up. “Good luck with that.”

Tony grumbled a goodbye and turned back to the musings that Nick had interrupted. But he finally made a thoughtful noise.

Maybe he _did_ need webbing. Maybe that was the way to catch a spider? With his own web?

He tapped in some commands onto his tablet, suddenly less grumpy.

“FRIDAY? We still have the analysis of the goop he sprayed Steve with?”

_”Yes.”_

“Let’s make us some of our own, shall we? I’ll figure out a delivery system…”

He was going to catch himself a spider.

><><><>> 

“You okay?”

Peter looked at Ned, and nodded.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

His friend shrugged, taking a drink of his coffee.

“You look edgy.”

“Yeah, I have been – a _little_. I’m not sure why.”

“School’s on break and I know you did great on your finals.”

“Yes. I’m not worried about that. It’s probably too much coffee, or something. I’ll have to cut back.”

“I don’t have to go to my grandfather’s for break. We could hang out.”

The boy shook his head, smiling. Ned was a good friend, but Peter knew he was looking forward to spending thanksgiving with his grandparents and other family.

“No, it’s okay. Really. I’m not going to be doing anything too interesting. Some studying, and maybe I’ll go to the museum, or something.”

“And go out on patrol?” Ned asked, slyly, looking around to make sure no one was near at hand to overhear the conversation.

“Yeah, most likely.”

Patrolling was a little odd, lately. Peter had seen Ironman more than a few times – and once had even seen _Tony Stark._ Queens wasn't a place he normally went, and Peter had definitely been ducking the Avenger – and making sure to find someplace else to be whenever he came anywhere near him.

It was hard, though, because he knew the man had some seriously impressive tech to fall back on, while Peter only had the instincts and feelings that told him something was happening – his spider senses, as Ned called them.

“You could come with me…”

“Nah. I appreciate it, but I don’t feel like spending two weeks dodging your mother’s advice about finding a nice girl and settling down to raise a family.”

Ned smiled.

“If _you’re_ there, then I’ll only have to hear her say it to me half the time.”

“She has a chance of convincing you,” Peter pointed out, amused, now.

Ned rolled his eyes.

“I’m too busy being a bachelor to get married. Mom doesn’t understand that I’m a free soul.”

“True. And she definitely wouldn’t understand that I’d be more interested in settling down with _you_ than I would be with a nice girl.”

Ned batted his eyes at his friend.

“Oh, Peter, you always say the nicest things,” he teased.

His friend laughed, and pushed him away.

“Go catch your plane, Ned. I’m going to go have a look around the city and make sure everyone is behaving themselves.”

><><><><><> 

_”He’s out.”_

Tony had FRIDAY constantly watching for the Spiderman. She had access to every security camera available and it was no secret that New York was one of the most heavily secured cities in the world, now. Queens wasn't quite as secured and surveilled, but there was still a chance that a shadow moving across a wall would be picked up – and if it was, FRIDAY was right there to tell Tony.

He activated his suit, immediately, and then put the goo shooter on his right wrist, over his armor.

“Keep him in sight,” Tony ordered. “We’ll see if we can catch him, this time, long enough to have a talk with him.”

He went to the balcony of his apartment and was immediately airborne and headed for Queens.

><><><><> 

It was fairly chilly out; the weather had taken a nasty turn for the worse the last day or so, but Peter’s costume was warm enough to keep him from shivering – as long as he didn’t stay still for very long and allow the cold to seep into his bones.

He was standing on one of his favorite buildings, watching the street below and thinking that maybe he’d call it a night early. There was a forecast of snow, which was never fun – although it _did_ tend to slow down the crime rate a little. Robbers and thieves didn’t like being cold, either.

Peter closed his eyes, trying to focus on that edginess inside him to determine what it was trying to tell him; good or bad, but all he could sense was oncoming trouble. Which could mean anything, of course. He was just beginning to shiver and was ready to go back to his little apartment when his sharp ears caught the loud wail of a fire alarm in the distance. Opening his eyes, he looked around, made sure that he knew which direction it was coming from and then jumped from the building and shot a web to swing himself that direction.

Even if the fire department didn’t need his help, he would at least be warm, maybe.

><><><>< 

“Still got him?”

_”He’s heading this way. You understand that it’s a felony to set off a fire alarm without cause, right?”_

“That’s why I had _you_ do it,” Tony pointed out, forcing himself not to move. The thrusters on his suit would give him away, immediately, and while he wasn't very good at ambushes – since he didn’t have the patience for them – he understood the concept and knew he needed to remain unseen. “They won’t prosecute an AI, after all.”

She was quiet, and he got the sense from her – which he sometimes _did_ – that she didn’t approve. He couldn’t complain, though, since he was the one who had programmed her to be so incredible. Maybe just a tad too close to actually having a work-wife, though.

The HUD came to life as FRIDAY’s sensors caught the images that the AI had been getting from the few security cameras in the area. Now she was able to track the slight form of the would-be superhero as he swung his way along the exact trajectory that Tony had anticipated. He waited, tensing, and tightening the band on his wrist, expectantly.

Any minute, now.

><><><>< 

The sense of impending trouble was growing as Peter drew closer to the building that he was sure the alarm was coming from. He was distracted from it by the sirens and lights of the fire trucks that were also charging that direction, ready to take on whatever might be threatening the lives of whoever lived in the apartment building.

He shot his hand forward, easily, looking for the next place to shoot his webbing for the next swing, and was suddenly aware of a movement just off to the right. He turned his head in mid swing, and was surprised to see the Ironman suit somewhat crouched on the roof of one of the buildings that he was passing by.

Even as he recognized that, and reached for his next swing, something was shooting toward him. Peter twisted in midair, trying to avoid it and at the same time catch the web for his swing. He suddenly found himself entangled in a huge glob of sticky stuff that kept him from swinging, properly. He tried to correct the action – and slow his momentum – but another glob hit his left side, just then, and he found himself unable to lift his hand to shoot the left webbing and catch himself.

His momentum unchecked, Peter slammed into the side of the closest building at a breakneck speed – the brick part, luckily and not a glass window. He tried to bring his hands up to stick to the building, but he was hopelessly tangled – and a bit dazed – and his hands missed, completely.

“Shit!”

He fell with breathtaking speed and tensed as well as he could, because he knew it was going to hurt.


	3. 3

_“Shit!” _

Not realizing that he was echoing the same curse that Peter had yelped, Tony made a lunge for the falling figure, thrusters now lighting up the area as he did. The guy had been swinging faster than he’d expected, and Tony didn’t have the practice with the shooter that he’d created and had tangled both arms as well as the body, when all he’d intended was to do was hit an arm and hold him in place long enough to actually get a hand on him and stop him long enough to talk.

Instead, the plan hadn’t gone close to what he’d wanted, and Spiderman was suddenly falling – and Tony knew even before he tried to make the grab that he wasn't going to get close. He was just too far away and didn’t have the right angle. The Ironman suit’s glove just brushed cloth as Spiderman fell beyond his reach and hit the sidewalk with a thud, and then was still.

He was beside him in an instant, kneeling on the sidewalk beside the limp form.

“FRIDAY?”

_”He’s alive. Nothing broken – a head wound.”_

Tony retracted the Ironman helmet, and carefully pulled off the mask, revealing an incredibly young face that was smeared with blood from a nasty cut to his forehead.

“He’s unconscious.”

_“Yes. He was probably knocked out when he hit the ground.”_

“I need to get him to a doctor.”

_”Shall I call for assistance?”_

Tony hesitated, looking down at the still form. Calling for help meant that he had to admit what he’d done. Which he definitely _didn’t_ want to do. _And_ give away the boy’s secret identity, as well. Nothing was going as planned, that was for certain.

“No. Nothing is broken? You’re certain?”

_”Of course.”_ She managed to sound insulted that he asked twice. _“Just the head wound.”_

“Is it life-threatening?”

Her medical files were much more complete than his own.

_“Only if he’s left in the cold. He can be cared for safely by any physician.”_

“Can I pick him up? Take him to my apartment?”

_”Yes.”_

The billionaire tucked the mask into his own pocket, gathered the slight form of the boy into his arms, carefully, and launched himself into the sky.

><><><><><>< 

Tony had his own personal physician.

Mainly because he was fiercely private when it came to those things that he didn’t want the world to know about. Not the _superhero_ things; those he was more than willing to display to the media, but it wasn't anyone’s business what his cholesterol level was – or how his blood pressure looked at the last check up. He already knew that he was probably not the healthiest person in the world; he definitely didn’t need Barbara Walters going on and on about it.

The man was a retired military doctor with thirty years of experience in all things medical, from trauma to hemorrhoids. Even better; he had already signed a confidentiality form and a non-disclosure agreement and in the many years that he’d been Tony’s doctor, nothing in the billionaire’s private medical forms had ever showed up on the internet.

Tony had FRIDAY call him, even as he was still carefully carrying his limp burden across the city.

By the time he’d landed on his balcony – _awkwardly_ since he had his hands full – FRIDAY was reporting that the doctor was on his way, and had suggested putting the boy somewhere warm and comfortable and pressing a soft bandage against the wound if it was still bleeding, but leaving it alone if not.

Tony carried Spiderman’s still quiet form into the guest room and deposited him on the bed, shaking his head at just how very young he looked – and feeling more than a bit of remorse for taking down someone who was obviously so inexperienced in such a brutal manner.

Even though it hadn’t been exactly _planned_ that way.

He deactivated his suit, and tucked the mask under the mattress, unwilling to have to explain to his doctor that the kid was Spiderman – presuming the man even _knew_ who that was. To protect the guy’s identity (and maybe assuage a little guilt he was feeling) he carefully took off the boy’s shirt, which was clearly designed to look like it had spider webbing, leaving him bare-chested, but in the blue pants, which were plainly colored and without any adornment that might give away his identity.

Tony had to admit that his gaze lingered on the young man’s frame a little longer than necessary, but the kid had an impressive build. Not an ounce of fat on him, and lean muscles that spoke of a lot more strength than the slight build would suggest. Chiseled abs and chest and before he even realized what he was doing, Tony had run his fingertips along that washboard stomach.

_“He’s still bleeding_,” FRIDAY reminded him, startling Tony, who jerked his hand away from the smooth skin.

“Right. Yes. Of course. How far out is the doctor?” he asked, heading for the bathroom and the first aid kit that was there.

><><><><>< 

By the time the doctor had arrived and been let in, Tony had the boy warmly covered and was holding a thick towel against the bleeding wound on his head. He still hadn’t woken, but there had been a few slight, pained, noises that suggested maybe he would be, soon.

“What do you have here?” the doctor asked, walking into the guest room, and immediately taking the spot the billionaire had been in. He set his doctor’s bag down on the bed, and carefully moved the towel, frowning at the wound, and the bruising that was already forming around it.

“He took a fall and hit his head.”

“Who is he?”

“Would-be superhero. FRIDAY checked him for any broken bones and he’s clear, but he didn’t come out unscathed.”

“Obviously.” The doctor opened the boy’s eyes to look at his pupils. “Has he been awake, at all?”

“No. He’s been out a good half an hour, or so. He did make a noise or two, but nothing beyond that.”

“The wound doesn’t look too deep. Skull appears intact.” He looked at Tony. “FRIDAY looked for brain injury?”

“As well as she can. Concussion, but nothing more serious – and no bleeding under the skull.”

“Convenient having your AI be able to run those scans.”

“Yes.”

The doctor was a lot more competent in his examination of the boy than Tony was. He was also more methodical. He pulled the blankets off, stripped the boy and checked for anything that Tony’s AI might have missed. There were some bruises – some were fairly deep – but no bones broken and no other areas of bleeding.

“What’s his name?” he asked the billionaire as he cleaned the headwound.

“No clue. He didn't have any ID on him."

“You just _found_ him?”

“Something like that,” Tony lied. “I _saw_ him fall, though, so I know that’s how he was injured.”

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”

He was obviously curious why the man was using his own apartment as an ER when the doctor knew Tony Stark didn’t care to open his home any more than necessary.

“Because he doesn’t have healthcare. What do you think? Is he going to be alright?”

The doctor shrugged.

“He’s _stable_, but no telling until he wakes up and talks to us.”

“How long will that be?”

“It depends on _him_.”

“What do we do while we wait?”

“I’d have a cup of coffee, if you have one.”

Stark frowned, looked at the sleeping boy in the bed and then shrugged.

“Fine.”

><><><><><> 

It was FRIDAY who informed them when the young man moved, eliciting a pained noise, and by the time both men had returned to the guest room, the boy was sitting up, just a little, and looking around – clearly dazed.

“Awake, I see,” the doctor said, moving to the side of the bed, and beginning to run a new set of tests on his patient. He checked his pulse, first, and then moved on to other vitals, while the boy and the billionaire both watched. One far more confused than the other – not surprisingly. “How’s the head? Any spots in your vision?”

“What happened?”

His voice was just as young as the rest of him; filled with pain, confusion and uncertainty.

“You fell,” Tony replied, hovering close by on the other side of the bed.

“I _did_?”

“Yes."

“You don’t remember?” the doctor asked.

“No.” The boy looked at Tony, and the billionaire decided he had beautiful eyes – even when they were filled with confusion, and a little discomfort. “Where am I?”

“I brought you to my place,” Tony told him. “I thought it’d be more comfortable for you.”

“Who are you?”

The doctor snorted, but Tony ignored it.

“Tony Stark.”

“Oh.”

There was no sign of name recognition – and both men were surprised, really. It was probably the most recognizable name outside of the president’s.

“Ironman…?” Stark elaborated, somewhat annoyed, now. “Superhero? _Avenger_? I saved the city from a nuke and shitload of aliens...?”

“Right.” It didn’t seem to mean anything to the kid, but his next question was even more disconcerting. “Who am I?”


	4. 4

“What?”

Tony looked at the doctor, who didn’t look too concerned.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked the boy.

There was a bit of hesitation, and then a shrug.

“I’m not sure. A fire alarm, maybe?”

“You don’t know your name?”

Now the beautiful, expressive, eyes were a little afraid.

“No.”

The doctor looked at Tony.

“I need a pen and something to write on.”

Tony didn’t go any further than the stand next to the bed. He opened the drawer and pulled out a pen and a notepad, handing it to the doctor, who handed it to the boy.

“Sign that.”

He took it and did as he was told, automatically, and then looked at it.

“That’s my signature…”

The doctor took it from him, pleased.

“Muscle memory works just fine.” He looked at the paper. “The handwriting is messy, but _I’d_ say your name is Peter. Perker? Parker?”

Tony looked at it, too.

“_Parker_. Peter Parker.”

“That’s a good start,” the doctor said, looking at the boy, intently. “How does the head feel?”

“Hurts.”

“Any weird lights in front of your eyes?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Good.” He looked at Tony. “The amnesia isn’t unexpected. Not with a blow like that.”

“What do we do about it?”

The doctor shrugged.

“Nothing we _can_ do. It’ll come back, or it won’t. Head wounds are like that, sometimes.”

“And in the meantime?” Tony asked.

“They have institutions that could take care of him.”

“I’m _not_ putting him in an institution,” the billionaire snapped.

“Nursing home, then,” the doctor told him, not at all perturbed by the annoyance. “They could take care of him.”

“Wait a minute,” Peter said. “I’m _fine_. I don’t need to go anywhere. I can just go home and sleep it off – whatever it is.”

The doctor looked at him.

“Do you know where you live?”

There was a blank look on the boy’s face.

“No.”

Tony shook his head.

“I’ll keep him here until he figures it out,” he told them both.

“What?” The doctor wasn't the only one to speak up.

“I can’t stay here,” Peter said at the same time.

“You’d rather go an institution?” Tony asked him, pointedly.

“No. But-“

“Or wander around until you get lucky and find your home?”

“Someone might be looking for me, though,” Peter said. “I can’t…” he trailed off, clearly distressed and trying to figure out if there _was_ someone waiting for him.

The doctor was quick to reassure.

“It’ll be fine. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? It’ll make your head hurt, less, and the more rest the better, really.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You _are_,” he was told. “You just don’t realize it, yet.”

The doctor pressed his bare shoulder, gently, easing him back into the pillows, and the boy went without argument, his eyes closing almost immediately.

“Just for a while…” Peter muttered, as the blankets were pulled up over him, warmly. “Then I’ll…”

Whatever he was going to say went unsaid, as he fell asleep, and the doctor walked out of the room with Tony following.

“You don’t have to keep him,” he told the billionaire. “There are places that specialize in treatment of short-term and long-term amnesia. Very good places; first class. He’d be fine in one of them. Some are even administered by the state, so if your young friend really _doesn’t_ have healthcare, it wouldn’t-“

“Money isn’t a problem,” Tony interrupted. Jesus, it was just getting worse and worse, wasn't it? But he had done the injury to Peter, and he wasn't going to put him in some facility until he was better. Tony knew he wasn't the best of people, sometimes, but he was a _lot_ better than that. “What do I need to do to take care of him, here?”

“Keep the wound clean, and covered. Make him sleep as much as possible, eat reasonable meals. Try to keep him from panicking; it can be terrifying not knowing who you are.”

Tony nodded.

“No special treatments, or anything?”

“No. He looks pretty healthy, really. The headwound is clotting just fine, so we know he doesn’t have any health issues like that. When he wakes up, try to get him talking. He might slip and add in personal information that will help jog his memory. Keep him in bed until he’s up to moving around – but I’d advise he doesn’t go too far, just yet.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Want me to stay?”

“No. I’ve got him.”

“I’ll leave some bandages and medical supplies for the wound. You have my number if anything happens – or if you have any questions.”

“Thank you.”

><><><><><> 

Tony was sitting in a chair beside the bed when Peter next opened his eyes. His feet were propped up on the side of the bed, and In his lap was a tablet. A soft, pained noise drew his attention from the display he’d been studying. He turned his head to look at the boy in the bed.

_Peter_.

“Hey…”

He hadn’t raised his head from the pillow, but his eyes were open and turned slightly on his side as he was, he was able to see Tony watching him.

“Hi.”

“How do you feel?”

“My head hurts.”

“The doctor left some painkillers for you, if you need them,” the older man offered, sitting up and bringing his feet to the floor so he could lean over and brush a careful hand against the boy’s cheek. “You can’t take it on an empty stomach, though, or you’ll get sick.”

“Oh.”

“You remember my name?”

“Tom,” came the immediate reply.

Stark smiled.

_“Tony.”_

“Tony,” Peter repeated, as if trying to place it. “Tony _Stark_.”

“Right. And do you remember what we learned your name is?”

The boy stared at him for a moment, his eyes tired and uncertain.

“Peter.”

“Peter _Parker_,” Tony confirmed. “You’re eighteen years old, graduated two years ago and have been taking classes at Columbia, ever since.”

“Really? How do you know that?”

Tony nodded, holding up his tablet.

“I looked you up. As much as I could find, anyway. It isn’t much.”

“Oh. Why not?”

There was a shrug.

“You must be a private person.” He hesitated, uncertain if he should bring up the Spiderman thing as a way to try and jog his memory, or if he _shouldn’t_, to avoid confusing him – or scaring him. “Do you remember anything about yourself?”

Peter’s expressive eyes went distant, as he was clearly trying to think about it. Finally, he shook his head.

“I can’t think beyond the ache in my head,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

The boy frowned.

“Why would _you_ be sorry? None of this is your fault.”

Tony shrugged, avoiding that particular question. He brushed his hand along Peter’s cheek, again.

“Can you eat so I can give you something for your head?”

“What?”

“What do you _like_?”

The boy gave him a wry look.

“I’m not sure.”

“How about a grilled cheese sandwich?” Tony suggested. “It’s warm, but bland enough that it won’t upset your stomach.”

“Yeah. That’d be great. Thanks.”

The billionaire nodded, and got to his feet.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He pointed toward the door down by the other side of the room. “The bathroom is through there, if you need it.”

“Okay.”

Peter closed his eyes and Tony walked out of the room.

><><><><><> 

“Still awake?”

The boy opened his eyes, which made Tony smile as he brought over a tray and set it on the bed. Peter sat up, looking at the food, which was a bit more than just a grilled cheese sandwich. There was also a sliced apple, and a small bowl of pudding.

“I brought you coffee and a cola,” he told Peter, unnecessarily. “I wasn't sure which you’d prefer.”

“Thank you.”

“Eat up.”

Peter picked up the sandwich and took a bite, hungrily, giving Tony a sidelong glance.

“Why are you taking care of me?” he asked, curiously. “Are we related?”

“No. I’m the one that found you on the ground,” Tony told him – which was the truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth and nothing but the truth. “I couldn’t just _leave_ you there, could I?”

The boy shrugged.

“Other people would have, I bet. Or just called for a police officer and left me with them.”

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t do that, and leave it at that, can we?”

“You’re not my _dad_, though?”

Tony smiled, amused, despite the seriousness of the situation.

“No, Peter. As far as I know, we’re not related.”

“I should call my parents, then. They must be worried.”

Well… _shit_.

Tony hesitated. This wasn't part of the deal, really, but he didn’t want to have any more partial truths (he hated calling them _lies_) between him and the boy.

“No, Peter… they’re _not_. I checked you out while you were asleep. I’m sorry, honey… they died when you were just a little guy.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his lap, and Tony’s heart went out to him and just how lost he looked at that moment.

“Hey…” he moved to sit next to him on the bed. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I _do_. But we’ll get you straightened out, okay?”

“Yeah. No.” Peter wiped his eyes, surreptitiously, and shrugged. “I mean, if they’ve been gone that long, then it’s stupid to feel sorry for myself, right?”

“Not stupid, at all,” Tony disagreed, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“What else did you find out?”

“You had an aunt and uncle who took care of you until you graduated – at the top of your class,” he added, trying to make him lose the despondent look. “They’re gone, too, now, but they saw you get into Columbia with a full scholarship before they did.”

Peter’s expression grew even more pained.

“I’m bad luck, huh?”

“You had a rough go of it,” Tony conceded. “It doesn’t make you bad luck, though.”

His hand tightened on the shoulder, which was muscular, but not bulky. And Tony was suddenly hyper aware that the younger man didn’t have a shirt on, just then. He was beautiful. And very much needed to be off-limits.

Peter nodded, leaning toward Tony without realizing it – although the billionaire didn’t miss the motion.

“What am I taking in school?”

“Pre-med.”

“Really?”

“Yup. _Doctor_ Parker.”

“Huh.” That made the boy smile. “What kind of doctor?”

“It didn’t say. You’re still taking the courses designed to give you the foundation no matter which direction you decide to go.”

“Oh.”

“Probably something amazingly complicated,” Tony told him, more than willing to bolster him. “Like a brain surgeon, or something.”

“Ugh.”

“No?”

“That’d be pretty gross. I’m not fond of blood.”

“Hey, you remembered something,” Tony said, squeezing his shoulder and releasing him. “What kind of doctor do you think you’d want to be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a _pediatrician_? Unless I don’t like kids. Then that wouldn’t be the best choice.”

“You seem like a nice guy,” Tony told him, sincerely. “You’d probably be great at it.”

Peter blushed at the praise, turning almost shy as he looked at the older man.

“Thank you.”

When Tony felt his groin twitch, he cleared his throat.

“You’re welcome. Eat, okay? I don’t want it to get cold.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

The boy applied himself to the meal, and thought of something as he bit into one of the apple slices.

“What if I’m allergic to this?”

“You’re not.”

“You’re sure?”

“I looked you up.”

He’d actually checked confidential medical files on the young man, curious what he’d find in them that could explain how Peter had survived a thirty floor drop to the pavement with only a knock to the head and some bruises to show for it. FRIDAY hadn’t had any trouble finding them, or accessing them, but there hadn’t been anything in Peter’s younger files to explain it, and he hadn’t been to the doctor since he was fourteen.

The last visit had been a complaint about a high fever, and a mark on his neck. The pediatrician at the time had diagnosed an insect bite and had administered an antibiotic drip in an IV, and had sent the boy home with his aunt, telling them to return if things worsened.

They must not have, because there weren’t any records that Peter had been brought back, again.

Ever.

“What else did you find?” Peter asked, curiously.

“You’re eighteen. Did you know that?”

“No. Yeah. _Maybe_?”

Tony smiled.

“You’re smarter than hell. From what I saw, your grades are amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. And if anyone can recognize genius, it’s me, I’ll be the first to tell you.”

Peter smiled, too, and Tony brushed his hand against the boy’s bare shoulder, again, much preferring to see him smile than seeing him upset.

“Anything else?” Peter asked. “Am I married? Kids? A dog?”

“None of the above.”

“Pretty lonely, huh?”

Tony shook his head.

“Maybe you’re like me, Peter. Just a few friends, but really good ones.”

“Yeah.”

“Enough moodiness,” Tony told him, deciding that the kid looked like he was flagging. “Finish your dinner, will you?”

Peter did as he was told and then downed the painkiller Tony handed him, washing it down with the coffee rather than the cola.

“That was good. Thanks.”

Tony took the tray, put it aside and then helped ease the boy back into the pillows once more, and covered him up.

“You’re welcome. You should probably get some sleep.”

Even as he started to move away, though, Peter’s hand caught his arm. The boy was remarkably fast, Tony noticed.

“Will you stay?” he asked, his eyes beseeching and scared. “I mean… just for a minute?”

He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. They were jumbled and had a million blanks spots. The older man understood, immediately, of course.

“Sure. For as long as you need.”

Peter didn’t cuddle up against him, but he scooched over just a little when Tony moved the tray off the bed and sat down beside him.

“You’re going to be fine,” he assured the boy, touching his cheek, briefly, and then reaching into the stand’s drawer for the remote to the room’s TV. “You’ll see.”

“What if I’m _not_?” Peter asked him, looking up at him, the pill already beginning to mellow him enough to allow him to voice his fear. “What will happen to me?”

Tony was quick to reassure, feeling guilt seething within him at the distress he’d caused with his stupid plan backfiring. The more he had learned about Peter during his research, the more impressed he’d been, and he had to admit – to himself – that he was interested in learning more about the guy.

“It hasn’t even been a day,” he said, moving sideways until his hip was right beside Peter’s shoulder, and the boy’s head was close enough that he could guide it onto his leg – not quite his lap, but that would have been more intimate than might have been comfortable for Peter. “Let’s not assume the worst is going to happen without giving your head a chance to heal, okay?”

“But-“

“No buts, honey,” Tony told him, stroking his forehead – where he wasn't injured – soothingly. “You’ll be fine, okay? You just need to get some sleep, and take a chance to heal up a bit.”

Peter closed his eyes, unable to keep them open. The touch and the medicine were ganging up on his anxiety and squashing them. His hand came to rest on Tony’s leg, next to his cheek, and he nodded.

“Maybe… just a little sleep.”

“That’s it,” Tony crooned, petting his hair, softly. “Sleep, now…”

Before too long the boy fell asleep and Tony shook his head to find himself in the position that he was in. One that he’d put himself in, really. He looked down at the sleeping form that was now cuddled up to him, and sifted his fingers through the fine curls framing the boy’s pretty face.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured, again, making certain not to wake him up.

He had to be.


	5. 5

When Tony woke Peter next it was well into the morning, and Tony wanted to get an idea of how the boy was feeling – and see if he had any memories coming back to him, yet.

Peter’s eyes opened, slowly, and he groaned as he rolled over onto his side, following the source of whoever was touching his cheek. The first thing he saw were the concerned brown eyes of Tony Stark.

Confused, and still half-asleep, his expression softened, and he reached for the man’s face, his fingers brushing the line of facial hair along his cheek. A _lover’s_ touch; gentle and light. Tony smiled, aroused despite himself.

“Good morning…”

Peter’s answering smile was almost drunk, but then it faded when he realized where he was. Or at least, when he realized that he wasn't in the bed of a lover. His expression became chagrined, and his hand dropped to the bedspread.

“Sorry.”

The older man shook his head, amused, and his hand touched Peter’s cheek for just a moment.

“I’m _not_. How do you feel?”

“A little light-headed.”

Obviously.

“Yeah. It’s probably a side-effect of the painkiller. Do you hurt?”

If he could get the boy to look at him like that, again, Tony was all for Peter taking another one.

“A little. Not too much.”

“Hungry?”

Peter hesitated, and then nodded.

“A little.”

“How’s the head?”

“It just aches a bit.” The boy stretched under the blankets and then looked up at Tony. “I still don’t remember anything,” he said, uncertainly. “What do I do?”

Tony was quick to reassure.

“It’s only been a day. Remember; the doctor said it might be a while. Don’t panic, yet, okay?”

“It’s hard not to.”

“What’s my name?”

“Tony.”

“See? You remembered something. Last night you called me _Tom_.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Little victories, huh?”

“Exactly.” Greatly daring, but given a bit of a hint at the young man’s preferences by the way he’d woken up, Tony leaned over and brushed his lips against Peter’s cheek. “Take it for what it is, alright. The big things are made of all the little ones.”

Peter blushed, slightly, at the kiss, but he didn’t pull away. His brows furrowed.

“May used to say that…”

Tony smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Your aunt’s name was May.”

“Are you sure?”

“I told you, I looked you up. Her name was definitely May.”

Peter smiled, too.

“I remembered something.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Thanks.”

He didn’t know what Peter was thanking him for, but Tony nodded.

“You’re welcome. Why don’t you come out into the living room and keep me company while I make breakfast?”

Peter snuck a look under the blankets.

“Where are my clothes?”

“They’re somewhere,” Tony replied. “But they’re not really in any condition to wear. I’ll bring you something.”

Peter nodded.

“I’d appreciate it.”

Tony vanished out of the room for a moment, returning shortly, carrying a small bundle of clothes.

“They’re going to be a bit big on you, but they’ll be comfortable,” he promised, his gaze following the motion when Peter pushed the blankets aside and sat up in the bed, naked and unconcerned about his lack of dress.

“Thanks.” Peter took the sweats, looking at Tony, with interest. “So, you’re Ironman?”

The billionaire nodded, bemused.

“Yup. That’s me. You remember who Ironman is?”

“I’ve _tried_ to,” Peter admitted. “But I just see flashes of memories. We didn’t know each other?” he asked, again, putting his legs in the sweats and then getting to his feet, shakily, to pull them on.

Tony reached out him to steady him when he faltered, large hands on either of the boy’s hips, steadying him.

“No. I’m sorry to say I never had the pleasure.”

Peter didn’t miss the double entendre and he smiled, even as he clung to Tony while his legs decided if they were going to support him, or not. Trusting the man to support him, he finished pulling the sweats up, and tied them to keep them on.

“Thank you.”

“Need help with your shirt?”

“No.”

He leaned against the larger man, though, for just a moment, stealing a little emotional support as well as physical, and Tony put his arms around him, understanding that Peter was a little freaked out, still, and was far too young to be dealing with something as scary as not remembering anything about yourself.

“It’s okay, honey…” he murmured. “You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

Peter nodded, but it was a long moment before he felt able to pull away – and he sniffed when he did, although his eyes were dry.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. Really. This is scary, I imagine.”

“Yeah. A bit.”

A _lot_.

Tony hovered a little as Peter walked with him out into the main living space of the apartment, and paused at the doorway to the guest room, looking the place over.

“You live here alone?” Peter asked.

The apartment was large, and tastefully furnished – with an undertone of high-tech. The huge flat screen TV along the wall above the gas fireplace was offset by a plush leather sofa and coffee table. The open area went directly into the kitchen, where there was an island and all the necessary appliances as well as a closed door that led to a balcony. Peter could tell that the windows were tinted – or maybe mirrored – but he had no trouble seeing that they were fairly high up, to judge from the amazing view he could see.

“Yes.”

“Not married?”

The billionaire smiled. It was so weird to be answering questions about himself when everyone already knew everything that was public about him.

“No. Just me.”

“No girlfriend?” Peter asked. “Having me here isn’t messing with your social life?”

“No. And before you ask, no _boyfriend_, either.”

“I wonder if _I_ have one.”

“A boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Did you see anything when you looked me up?”

“You live alone, as far as I could learn.” He’d already told him that he wasn't married. “And I didn’t see anything that indicates a significant other – male, or otherwise.”

“Huh.”

Tony walked him over to the island and sat him down on one of the stools so he could talk to him while cooking their breakfast.

“If you want, we could go to your place, later…? Take a look and see if anything there jogs your memory.”

“You don’t have somewhere you need to be?”

“No. I’m rich.” Again, not something that he usually had to tell anyone. “I can take some time off.”

Peter frowned, though.

“I don’t understand, Tony. We’re not _related_?”

“Nope.”

“And we didn’t even know each other before I fell and hurt myself?”

“Not _officially_, no.”

“Then why are you so adamant about helping me? That doctor wanted to put me in an institution. Why don’t _you_ want to? I’m nobody to you.”

“I didn’t say that,” the older man pointed out. “I said we weren’t acquaintances. I knew who you were – sort of. And I was trying to figure out a way to meet you – officially.”

“You were?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I happen to know that you’re a talented fellow, and I wanted to meet you – but we don’t run in the same circles, so I was trying to find a way to get you alone. You getting hurt and ending up in my guestroom wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but here you are.”

“What kind of talent?”

The billionaire smiled, and opened the fridge.

“I’d rather wait until _you_ remember what they are,” he said, evasively. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Peter allowed the man to change the subject, although he definitely was curious.

“Oatmeal?”

Tony looked over at him.

“_Oatmeal_?”

“If you have it,” Peter said. “Anything’s fine, really.”

“I can make oatmeal,” the older man said, with a shrug. The guy liked oatmeal. How _wholesome_. “But you should have something else, too. Something with protein. Ham?”

“Sure.” He touched his fingers to his forehead, watching as Tony put a small pot of water on to boil. “So what do you do?”

“I own Stark Industries.” At Peter’s blank look he rolled his eyes. “It’s a tech company.”

“Cool. You’re into tech, then?”

Tony smirked.

“You might say that.”

Peter looked around the apartment, again, curiously.

“Is this a smart house, then?”

“FRIDAY? Say hello to our guest.”

_“Hello, Peter.”_

The boy’s eyes lit up with surprise – and then excitement. He’d obviously just been joking about the smart house thing.

“It’s interactive?”

“Yeah. Say hi to her.”

“Hi, FRIDAY. It’s nice to meet you.”

_”Thank you.”_

“What does she do?” he asked.

“Everything. Runs the appliances, the house, handles my security. She’s interactive in my Ironman suit, my apartment, more than a few places in Stark Tower, and even in the Avenger’s compound.” He waited for Peter’s reaction, and didn’t see one. “You know who the Avengers are?”

“Sure.” Then he shrugged at the look Tony gave him. “_Remind_ me.”

While Tony cooked oatmeal for Peter and ham and eggs for himself – with an extra serving of ham for Peter – the older man told Peter about the Avengers and a few of the individuals that made up the team – including himself.

Peter listened to it as if he’d never heard any of it before – and was infatuated by the story of how Tony became Ironman, and hesitated when he heard about the battle of New York.

“That part sounds familiar,” Peter told him, as they finished eating right there at the island. “It was pretty bad, huh?”

“Yeah. You’d have been pretty young, though. Hopefully nowhere near any of it.”

The boy nodded, and yawned, looking apologetic.

“It isn’t the story,” he told Tony. “Or the company.”

Which made the older man smile.

“You could use some more sleep, I imagine,” he suggested. “Why don’t you go relax on the sofa? FRIDAY? Turn on the fireplace.”

Peter looked over, impressed, as the fireplace turned on.

“You’ll keep me company?”

“As soon as I’m done with the dishes,” Tony assured him. He shooed him away. “Find something to watch on TV.”

><><><><>> 

Peter was sitting on the sofa flipping through the channels by the time Tony walked into the living room.

“Movie?” the boy asked, smiling up at him when the billionaire leaned over the back of the couch.

“Whatever you want,” Tony said. “I’m going to go get a blanket.”

Peter nodded, turning his attention back to the options on the TV and when Tony returned, next, he had settled for a sci-fi movie.

“Have you seen this?” Tony asked, settling beside the young man, and flipping the blanket over them both to share, even though the fireplace provided plenty of warmth. “Or do you remember?”

“No,” Peter said. “I’ve seen this. At least, I think I have.”

Without any self-consciousness he leaned a little against Tony, stealing warmth from him and silently asking to be held. The older man smiled, feeling just a bit of a thrill as he put his arm behind Peter, bringing the lithe frame against his side, lightly.

“Are you _normally_ a cuddler?” he asked, curiously.

Peter shrugged.

“I’m not sure. It feels good, so I guess I am. If I’m not, I _should_ be.”

Tony turned his head and pressed a light kiss against Peter’s temple.

“I’ll convert you, if you’re not.”

Which made the boy flush, lightly, and rest his hand on Tony’s leg as he melted against the larger man, and turned his attention back to the TV. The billionaire told his groin to behave, shifted just a little, and then settled in to watch the movie, as well. But he was very much aware of the warmth of the young man beside him.

Even when Peter eventually fell asleep, his head on Tony’s shoulder.


	6. 6

They spent the day on the sofa.

They didn’t _do_ anything beyond cuddling and watching movies, but it seemed that Peter was one of those people who could binge movies back to back to back. While Tony definitely _wasn't_ able to sit still that long, _normally_, he was acutely aware that Peter’s injury and subsequent loss of memory were all his fault. If it comforted the young man to be held while they watched movies, then he’d hold him all day.

And he _did_.

Peter would doze off and on, lulled to sleep by the warmth and comfort that Tony was silently offering. While he slept, Tony looked up amnesia cases, trying to get an idea of what – if _anything_ – he could do to help Peter (and maybe make himself feel just a little less guilty). He didn’t see much; take him places that he might recognize, allow him to brood since it might jar his memories, and hypnosis – something called age regression to get Peter to a point before his memory loss and see if that could jog his memories.

Tony hesitated at the idea of hypnosis; for one thing, he didn’t want anyone messing with Peter’s brilliant mind. For another, he didn’t want someone learning what the boy could do – at least not before _Peter_ learned what he could do, again.

They’d go the slow route, he decided, as long as the younger man was on board with that. He tilted his head so he could watch the boy who was sleeping in his embrace. He had plenty of time to devote to his care, and Peter’s school was on fall break for the holidays. Tony would fix the mess that he’d created.

Hopefully without Peter hating him when it was all said and done.

He was finding that he was really _enjoying_ the young man’s company.

><><><><><><> 

“Your _rear_ must be numb…”

Tony smiled, not really expecting that to be the first thing out of Peter’s mouth when he woke.

“Why do you say that?”

“You’ve been sitting in the same position for _hours_.”

“It’s a pretty _comfortable_ couch.”

Peter pulled out of the billionaire’s embrace and stretched, wincing at the residual ache in his head – although it was much better than it had been. Tony took advantage of having his arms free and did the same – and then he stood up and found that not only was his _rear_ just as numb as Peter had guessed that it was, but his legs were, as well.

He groaned as he stretched, making Peter smile.

“Told you.”

“Yeah. A _little_. I just need to work it out. What do you want for dinner?”

Tony had plied the boy with finger foods whenever he was awake, so hadn’t been too concerned about the idea of skipping lunch – but they weren’t going to miss another meal.

The boy got to his feet as well, the blanket falling from his lean body as _he_ stretched, too.

“_You_ choose. I don’t know what I like.”

Tony led him into the kitchen and opened the pantry.

“Noodles and sauce?”

“Sure.” He watched as the older man set a pot of water on the stove to boil. “I was thinking that I’d like to take a walk,” he said, once Tony was turned back toward him. “Maybe after dinner?”

“Feeling restless?”

“A little.”

Tony wasn't surprised; someone as athletic as Peter was wouldn’t be able to handle cabin fever – even after a day of lounging in front of the fireplace watching movies.

“It’s a good idea,” Tony approved. “_If_ you feel up to it. I’d rather you weren’t alone, though. Would you mind my company?”

Peter shook his head, suddenly looking a little shy – and the expression was _adorable_ on him, Tony decided.

“No. I’d like that.”

That made Tony smile – and feel a thrill of arousal.

“Red sauce? Or _white_?” he asked, to distract himself.

Peter hesitated.

“Red?”

The uncertainty made Tony feel a surge of protectiveness and empathy for the young man. How terrible to not even know what you liked to eat. Which added to his own guilt, since he was the one who had caused it. He had a lot of red in his ledger when it came to Peter. A ton to make up for, and he knew it – even if _Peter_ didn’t.

He reached over the island and brushed his fingertips along Peter’s cheek, lightly, his eyes gentle.

“Red, it is. With hot bread rolls.”

Peter’s cheeks reddened, and he smiled, turning his head in Tony’s touch and changing what had been a protective caress on Tony’s part into something that was much closer to something from a lover. The boy’s lips brushed Tony’s fingertips, nuzzling them, almost automatically.

“Sounds good.”

Tony bit back – _mostly_ – a groan.

“Jesus, Peter… you’re sensual as _fuck_, aren’t you?”

It wasn't an accusation; and the younger man smiled, only a little embarrassed at his brazen behavior. It _felt_ good, and natural, so he probably _was_.

“I think so, yeah. Sorry.”

He _wasn't_, though – and neither was Tony.

“I _love_ it,” the billionaire told him, honestly. “Just don’t be surprised if I react to it…”

Which he already _was_, of course.

Peter’s chuckle was a happy sound, and it made Tony smile, too.

“I’ll remember that.”

><<><><><<<<>> 

Dinner didn’t take long to make. It was comfort food to the extreme, really, but _not_ very complicated.

They ate at the island, and Tony watched Peter’s reactions as he ate, approving of his appetite – and the fact that it was so well received.

“We can put spaghetti on your _I like it list_, I suppose,” he told the boy.

Peter nodded.

“Everyone likes spaghetti, though, so that wasn't a tough one, really.”

“Liver for breakfast?”

“Ugh.” He didn’t need to know what he liked to know that liver almost certainly wasn't on the list. “Not likely.”

Peter stood up and started gathering their dishes.

“I can do these,” he told Tony. “Do you still feel like walking with me?”

“I better, after eating all those carbs.” He looked out the balcony door. “It’s _snowing_. Are you sure you want to be out in that?”

He’d been hurt, after all, and had some bruises. Tony was well aware that cold air made bruises ache. That was experience talking.

“Yeah. It’ll be fun. Besides, who _wouldn’t_ want to walk in the snow with a cute guy?”

Tony smiled.

“I was asking myself the same thing.”

Peter smiled, too, clearly pleased at the compliment.

><><><><>< 

Peter didn’t have a coat, but Tony had several, of course, and the older man bundled the boy into warm clothes as soon as they were finished with the dishes. Then, instead of simply walking around the block, or something, he decided to go all out and drove them to the park.

It was chilly, but when they got out of the car, he made a show of wrapping a scarf around Peter’s neck, pulling the wool cap carefully down over his still-bandaged forehead and making sure he was warmly bundled. Then he offered him his arm. Peter blushed, slightly, and slid his arm through Tony’s as they walked to the closest path, which was slowly being covered in powdery snow.

“You don’t mind being seen in public like this?” the young man asked, curiously.

“With another _man_, you mean?” Tony asked. “Or in a heavy coat and a wool hat with a poofy ball on top?”

“With _me_.”

Tony smiled.

“No. I’m an adult, and so are you. If the public has a problem with me being with you, then they can piss off.”

Peter smiled at that.

“Ironman doesn’t have an image to uphold?”

“I _do_,” Tony assured him. “But I’m pretty much seen as an egocentric asshole, so they probably expect me to do what I want.”

“Oh.”

“And _who_ I want.”

Peter’s eyes were amused at that, which was something of a relief to Tony, because heavy flirting didn’t always _work_, and it could have easily back-fired on him.

Peter might not remember all that much about himself, but Tony was pleased that the younger man definitely seemed to be attracted to him – drawn to him, maybe, even – and the feeling was entirely mutual. He wasn't going to do anything to take advantage of their circumstance, but there wasn't any reason he couldn’t lay some groundwork for later.

“You want me?” Peter asked, unaware of Tony’s master plan, and simply enjoying the moment.

Life had been pretty scary for him, lately, and he was enjoying the distraction that Tony was providing.

“You doubt it?”

“I suppose not.” He was making it obvious, after all. “I’m just…”

“Just…?”

Peter shrugged.

“Flattered? Surprised? Uncertain what to do about it?”

That made Tony smile, and he leaned into Peter’s side.

“You don’t have to do anything about it, honey,” he told him. “Just sit back and enjoy my company, like I’m enjoying yours. Alright?”

“Yeah.”

They weren’t the only ones walking in the park, but the time of day and the snow falling around them made it feel like they were. It was quiet and relaxing, and just the kind of finish that Peter needed to finish up the first full day spent without any idea who he was. As they walked, Tony asked him questions relating to the classes that he was taking in school, and found that the younger man didn’t have any trouble answering them. Even the tricky ones.

He remembered all the laws of physics, but he didn’t have a clue what his address was.

“The brain is a weird thing,” the billionaire told him as they finally had to call it a night. It was getting colder, and it was pretty late. Tony wasn't worried about being mugged or anything, but he didn’t want to keep Peter up late. The doctor had said he’d need all the sleep that he could get. “For all we know, tomorrow you’ll wake up and remember everything.”

Peter didn’t look too convinced.

><><><><><><>>< 

They were both chilled when they returned to Tony’s apartment. The billionaire hung their coats and hats, and then sent Peter to the sofa, telling FRIDAY to turn on the fireplace. Peter stood in front of the flames, his hands stretched out to them, getting warmed, while Tony made coffee.

“Warm enough?” the billionaire asked as he carried a tray over to the coffee table and sat it down, then stood beside Peter.

“I’m starting to thaw out, yes.” He reached out and brushed his hand against Tony’s. “Your hand is cold.”

“Because I need to invest in driving gloves. Come sit down,” he said. “I’ll warm you up.”

Peter smiled at the invitation and did as he was told, sitting comfortably beside Tony as they sipped coffee and watched the fire.

“You’re _sure_ we’re not related?” he asked, after a while, finishing his coffee and feeling better because of it.

“Yes.”

“_Positive_?”

“Absolutely. Why do you ask?”

Peter leaned over, resting his hand on Tony’s thigh for support, and then kissed him, lightly, surprising Tony. He pulled back, leaving his hand where it was, his brown eyes watching Tony’s reaction.

“Because that would be extremely awkward, if we were…”


	7. 7

Tony felt his heart start beating faster.

“Did it _feel_ awkward?”

“No. I don’t think so.” He looked uncertain, though. “_Did_ it?”

“I don’t know,” Tony told him, leaning back a little, his hand covering Peter’s on his leg. “Maybe you should try it, _again_? Just to see?”

The boy smiled, his expression endearing to the older man.

“Yeah?”

“_Please_…”

Tony held still while Peter leaned into him, again, his lips brushing lightly against Tony’s, and then holding in place for a moment, longer. His tongue came out and slid along Tony’s lower lip, but when the older man opened his mouth in invitation, Peter didn’t press the advantage. Instead, he pulled back, pupils just a little wider than before.

“I don’t think that was awkward, at all…” the younger man said.

“No. It was _good_.”

Peter nodded, and he moved to lean against Tony, silently asking to be held. In only moments, Tony had his arms around him and was pulling him into his lap to hold him close. Peter allowed it, and rested his cheek against Tony’s shoulder with a soft sigh.

“How does your head feel?” the older man asked. “Still sore?”

“A little, yes. It’s not too bad.”

“You’re alright like this?”

Peter nodded, not lifting his head. It felt good, and he liked the feeling of Tony’s arms around him like they were. He felt safe. And wanted. And a little less uncertain about life in general, just then.

“I’m comfortable. You?”

“Perfect.”

><><<><><><>> 

The movie was a new release, and interesting, but both men were only paying partial attention to what was happening in it. Tony was easily holding Peter in his lap, and would occasionally turn his head to look at him. Both to make sure the boy was still comfortable where he was, and to steal the occasional tender kiss.

Peter would smile each time he did, returning the kiss willingly, although he never raised his head from the older man’s shoulder.

“Have I told you that I think you’re pretty?” Tony murmured, mid-way through the movie.

Peter smiled at the compliment.

“No.”

“You _are_.”

“Do guys _like_ to be called pretty?” the younger man asked.

“Did _you_ like it?” Tony countered. “I could call you _beautiful_, instead. Or _lovely_.”

Peter’s blush was adorable, and it made Tony kiss him, again.

“_You’re_ pretty, too,” he said, brushing his fingertips along Tony’s chest and belly, but never going lower – to the billionaire’s disappointment.

“Pretty _handsome_?”

Peter chuckled.

“Pretty _modest_?”

“Not something I’ve ever been accused of being,” Tony admitted.

“Pretty _charming_?”

“Sometimes.” He shifted under the slim form, knowing Peter would be able to feel that he was aroused, but not bothering to do anything about it. He was content to simply cuddle, really, and Peter seemed to be, as well. Under the blanket that Tony had covered them with, he couldn’t _see_ if Peter was hard, too, and he wasn't going to be forward enough to actually reach his hand down into the young man’s lap and do a cock check. “I have my moments.”

That made the boy smile.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” Peter asked him, seriously. “You’re good-looking and wonderful – and I thought rich people pretty much _had_ to have someone on their arm all the time.”

“Because I’m an asshole,” Tony told him, honestly. “Pretty self-centered and egotistical and fairly petty.”

“I don’t see any of that…”

“Because you don’t _know_ me, Peter,” he said. “I’m actually trying to not be any of those things with you.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t deserve any of that.”

And because he felt guilty for hurting him, of course, but he didn’t add that aloud.

“Oh.” The boy was silent, watching the movie but his hand still moving on Tony’s chest. “Thank you, then. For not being an asshole, I mean.”

Now it was Tony’s turn to chuckle. He brought his hand to Peter’s thigh and claimed his lips for another tender kiss, and this time his tongue slid along the boy’s bottom lip, briefly.

“You’re welcome.”

Peter eventually fell asleep in Tony’s lap during the second movie.

The billionaire was amused and maybe a little pleased to find himself in such a position. He finished the movie, unwilling to disturb Peter, who _looked_ like he was comfortable, and truthfully cuddling like this wasn't something that Tony did, really. He had never been with someone that he was interested in holding long term like this.

Usually it was some post fucking holding while he caught his breath and was enjoying the aftermath of his climax, but he hadn’t done anything more than some light petting with Peter, and was content to settle for whatever the boy was comfortable with.

When the movie was finished, and the final credits were rolling, though, he had to make a decision; stay where they were and hold him – which he was enjoying, of course – or get the younger man into bed where _he_ could be even more comfortable. He decided to wake him and put him to bed. He _looked_ comfortable, but Tony thought that he’d be better off in his bed. Tony slid his fingers through Peter’s hair, gently, and then ran the same fingers against the boy’s cheek – noticing that he didn’t have any facial hair to speak of, really. Not by choice, either, apparently, since there wasn't even a five o’clock shadow – despite the late hour.

Then those brown eyes opened, looking up at him, sleepily, and Tony had to bite back a groan.

Peter was just fucking _edible_, really. Unaware of Tony’s reaction, the boy blinked.

“It’s morning?”

“No, honey,” he said, brushing Peter’s bangs back, almost lovingly. “It’s time to go to bed.”

“Oh.”

He closed his eyes, again, seemingly in no hurry to move.

“You would be more comfortable in a bed,” Tony murmured, brushing his lips against the tip of Peter’s nose.

“In _your_ bed?”

“If you want.”

“Yeah.”

The boy brought his arms around Tony and shifted, moving on his lap until he was straddling Tony’s thighs, his face buried in the older man’s shoulder. He only held the position for a moment, though, before he sighed and climbed off the man, completely. He didn’t move, though, and was just sprawled on the sofa, now, instead of on Tony.

“Tired?” The Tony asked, amused.

“_Sleepy_,” Peter agreed.

“Want me to carry you?”

Peter opened his eyes.

“Would you?”

It made Tony smile, and he stood up, stretching a little from being in the same position for so long.

“It could be arranged… for a price…”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Hmm? What price?”

“A goodnight kiss once I get you into bed. Deal?”

“M-hmmm. Sounds reasonable.”

Peter closed his eyes, again, and Tony picked him up, gathering him into his arms – amazed that the boy weighed so little, considering how strong he was.

“Okay?” He asked and Peter’s head went to his shoulder, again.

“Perfect,” the boy agreed.

Tony carried him, easily, into his bedroom and deposited him on the bed. Peter stretched, languidly, pushing the extra blanket off. He wasn’t cold, now, and didn’t need the extra warmth. While Tony watched, the boy pulled off his shirt without even opening his eyes, and tossed it to the side. When his hands went to the button of his jeans, the older man thought about allowing him some privacy, and then simply watched as Peter wriggled out of his jeans and boxers and then moved to get under Tony’s blankets with a sleepy sigh.

All done without opening his eyes, but _Tony_ hadn’t missed a moment.

After a minute, Peter _did_ open his eyes, still looking much more asleep than awake.

“You’re coming?”

Tony smiled, knowing that it wasn’t what Peter had meant, but it had been so seductively delivered.

“I will,” he assured the boy – using his own double entendre which was lost on Peter because the boy was too sleepy, still, to notice. “You’re alright with me joining you?”

“It’s _your_ bed.”

“Do I have to be dressed?”

“Up to you.”

Peter yawned, and then rolled over, onto his belly, burying his face into Tony’s pillow, looking for all the world as if he had no intention of moving. The billionaire went into the bathroom to take care of his nightly routine, but returned in only a few minutes, stripped out of his clothing and joined the boy under the blankets. Peter moved enough to cuddle against him.

“Don’t fall asleep until I get my goodnight kiss,” he reminded him.

Peter chuckled, and forced himself to wake up a little more. Now he was aware of the feel of skin against his skin. Tony’s body hair brushing against his own smoother skin. He raised himself up, until he was looking down at the older man, who was watching him, intently, clearly waiting for him to set whatever pace that he needed to have.

“You _are_ pretty,” Peter told him, leaning down and kissing Tony’s forehead, lightly, and then his cheek before pressing his lips against Tony’s and smiling at the way the man’s facial hair tickled his skin. He didn’t deepen the kiss, but it lingered, and Peter shivered when he felt the older man’s hand slid along his side. “Pretty _hot_.”

Tony chuckled at that, and Peter settled back in his embrace, somewhat sprawled on top of him, now, with one arm wrapped loosely around him. Then he sighed, contentedly and was still once more, already asleep, again.

It took the billionaire much longer, and a lot of willpower to not simply roll Peter over onto his back and wake him up and take advantage of the position they were in, just then.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have bothered to stop himself, sure enough in his experience at making someone else writhe that he would have been able to make up for it, but Peter was special to him, and he wanted him on his own terms.

He could wait.


	8. 8

It was Peter who woke Tony.

The boy was pressed right up against him, his right leg over Tony’s hip, slowly moving against him, sensually. The boy’s aroused cock was working against Tony’s hip and Peter was making the most sensual noises that Tony could ever remember waking up to.

And that was saying something.

He opened his eyes, and carefully rolled, just a little, so that he was turned toward Peter. Watching him for a long moment, feeling himself reacting to just how erotic a sight the younger man made, pleasuring himself against him like he was. He bit down a soft groan, and crooned gentle encouragement to him, although he _didn’t_ reach down between them to help, despite being tempted to do just that. It was incredible arousing to simply watch as Peter’s lithe body coiled and uncoiled against him, his hands holding Tony in place as whatever dream he was having became more and more exciting, and Tony’s pelvis became slick with precum and then the actual thing as Peter grunted, softly, and climaxed against him.

“So perfect, honey,” Tony murmured, brushing his fingers through Peter’s hair. “So good.”

An amazing way to wake up – although now Tony was hard and eager and had already decided that it would be bad form to return the favor and rut against Peter.

Instead, he pressed a kiss against the boy’s temple, smiling when Peter gave a sigh that was laced with satisfaction, and then cuddled himself closer to the billionaire’s warm body and promptly fell back into a deeper sleep.

Tony gave himself a purely mental shake and watched him doze beside him, but he didn’t go back to sleep, himself. There was no way he could relax enough, just then, to do more than just close his eyes and replay that particular scene in his mind over and over, while he refused to take care of the raging hardon that he was sporting.

It would eventually cure itself, and being aroused was exciting, too. He’d enjoy the sensation, and wait for Peter to wake – and maybe get an encore?

><<><>>><<> 

By the time Peter finally stirred beside him, again, Tony had managed to lose his erection, but Peter was sporting the beginnings of yet another one. The joys of youth, and the stamina that went with it, the older man decided, amused, as Peter ran his hand along Tony’s flank and pressed even closer.

Waiting to see if he was going to get a repeat performance of the scene that had woken him in the first place, he held still, but Peter’s hand went to cup Tony’s rear and the boy spoke, his face against Tony’s chest.

“Are you awake…?” he asked, sleepily.

“M-hmm. Good morning.”

It definitely was for him. The younger man’s cock was hard and throbbing, and once more Tony’s skin was smeared and slick with Peter’s desire.

“I had the best dream…”

“Yeah? About what?”

“You,” Peter told him, kneading the fleshy part of Tony’s ass, lightly. “You were doing incredible things to me.”

“Oh?” Tony’s hand was on Peter’s side. “Tell me more.”

Peter smiled against his chest.

“You were holding me,” he murmured. “Like you are, now.”

“Yeah…?” Tony slid his hand along Peter’s hip. “Then what?”

“You rolled me over onto my back and started playing with me.” Peter pressed his cock into Tony’s pelvis, so close to Toy’s own aching rod that it wouldn’t have taken much for the older man to shift and have Peter brushing his own.

“Playing with you how?” he asked, his hand moving to Peter’s ass, now. “Tell me what I was doing, honey.”

Peter rolled away from Tony’s embrace, onto his back, and scooted closer, once more.

“You were kissing me… _all_ of me.”

Tony groaned and rolled, as well, moving over on top of Peter, his knees on either side of the boy’s hips to avoid actually resting any weight on him and looking down at him, while Peter looked up, smiling.

“_All_?”

“Yes.”

“Can I kiss you, honey?” Tony whispered.

“Yes.”

Tony leaned down, brushing his lips softly against Peter’s. Once. Twice, and then another that lingered. Peter opened his mouth and Tony ran his tongue along the boy’s lower lip.

“What else, Peter?” he asked, tenderly. “What did I do to you?”

“You kissed me…” Peter repeated. “_Lower_.”

Tony shifted, and brought his lips against Peter’s jaw, and then when the boy lifted his head, exposing his neck, Tony kissed him there, too, his tongue tasting the delicate skin and feeling the steady pulse of Peter’s heartbeat.

“Lower?” he asked, kissing Peter’s collarbone.

“Yes.”

Tony made an approving noise, and shifted again.

“Here?” he asked, his lips moving down Peter’s chest and to his stomach, stopping at his navel to dip his tongue into it, which made Peter moan.

“Yes, there, too…” the boy was sounding breathless, now, which was how Tony felt. “_Lower_, Tony…”

The older man smiled at the near desperation in Peter’s voice and shifted, once more. This time he moved his knees, one at a time, until he was situated _between_ Peter’s, now, and the boy parted his legs, willingly, to give Tony access. The blankets had shifted as Tony was, and the man looked down, between them, admiring Peter’s body and loving the way he was there, waiting, tensely, for Tony to touch him.

Tony didn’t make him wait long. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss on Peter’s pelvis, next to his cock, his cheek brushing against Peter’s coarse pubic hairs as he did.

“Here?”

“Yes.” Peter shifted, too, now, anxious. “Please…”

He felt his own cock twitch in response, but ignored it – for the moment – and peppered tender kisses against the base of Peter’s cock, his tongue darting out, randomly, to taste the tender skin there. Peter’s shaft was drenched with precum, now, and Tony tasted that, as well.

“Here…?”

“You’re teasing me…” Peter complained, arching up, just a bit, in protest.

“Only a little, honey,” Tony assured him. “You’ll be fine.”

“Suck me,” the young man demanded, his hand going to Tony’s hair. “I _need_ it.”

With a chuckle, Tony did as he was told, and opened his mouth, taking Peter into it without further delay.

Somewhere above him he heard an appreciative moan, and that made him smile and he worked Peter’s cock with his tongue, taking the flavor of the boy and learning the shape and size of him.

“Yes, Tony,” Peter whispered, his hands both in Tony’s hair, now, holding him in place as his hips began moving, fucking his cock into the blowjob he was receiving, making sure Tony didn’t stop. “Right there…”

The billionaire made an approving noise, enjoying the fact that Peter was so confident and willing to tell him what he wanted. Enjoying it enough that he opened his mouth, wider, and drew that wonderfully hard cock deep into his mouth until it was brushing the back of his throat and then beyond.

He held still, allowing Peter to fuck his throat for a long five count before he had to pull back to breathe – and then he did it again.

“That’s so good,” Peter murmured, his pace increasing slowly but surely, but not as desperate as he might have been if he hadn’t already climaxed once. Even if he wasn't aware of it. “Suck me, Tony. Get me off and I’ll let you have my ass.”

Tony groaned and went down on Peter, again, taking him deep, enjoying the feeling of Peter’s throbbing cock invading his mouth and throat, retreating, and then coming back into its place. The boy wasn't being rough in his growing eagerness – which was a good thing as strong as he was – but his grip in Tony’s hair was firm, and there was no doubt in the older man’s mind that Peter had every intention of feeding him his load when he went off.

Which was fine – and was an indication to Tony that this almost certainly wasn't Peter’s first time doing this.

It wasn't _Tony’s_ first time, either.

The older man played the boy’s cock like an instrument; sucking, licking, teasing and then deepthroating until Peter’s movements _were_ becoming more frenzied with desire. He was playing with Tony’s hair, driving his cock deep into his throat, demandingly, and holding himself in place to enjoy the sensation of being thoroughly worked.

Tony allowed it; sucking him when Peter’s cock was deep, licking him when it was in a position to be played with. He shifted enough to move a hand to Peter’s ass, sliding a finger along the boy’s crack, finding his entrance and teasing it, as well – which made Peter buck, slightly, and then make an approving noise.

“Right _there_, Tony,” he said, breathlessly. “Oh _Jesus_…”

Tony harvested precum from the tip of his own cock and used it to work his finger into Peter’s ass, unerringly finding his prostrate just as he clamped down on Peter’s cock. The boy jumped, writhing in ecstasy, and climaxed, hard, almost dislodging Tony’s mouth and finger, both.

“Yes…” Peter’s cock emptied into the older man’s willing mouth, and Tony swallowed everything that he offered – the grip Peter had on his head, just then, really not giving him a lot of choice.

He slurped and licked, still teasing the boy’s inner muscles as he did, until Peter finally gave a sigh of completion and loosened his fingers from Tony’s hair.

“Wow…” he murmured, pulling Tony’s head back enough to free his cock and force the billionaire to look at him – which he did. “That was so good.”

Tony moved up on him, removing his finger as he did, and guiding the head of his cock to the boy’s crack and rocking it gently in place, precum making him slick as he kissed Peter, sharing the boy’s flavor with him.

“Yes, it was,” he agreed, pulling back. “I get the feeling this isn’t your first time doing this…”

“No. I don’t think so.”

It wasn't a given, though, that Peter wasn't a virgin, so Tony treated their first time together as if he was – just in case. Besides, he wanted to be invited back into the boy’s arms, and that meant making it feel good enough for Peter to want a repeat performance.

Tony roamed Peter’s body, freely; his lips and hands touching, tasting and teasing the slight frame under him until Peter was wriggling and writhing with eagerness – and was hard once more.

Rather than leave the bed even for a moment (and telling himself that next time he’d be more prepared) Tony used their precum and a lot of spit to lube Peter as he prepared his oh so tight ass for him. Making sure to hit Peter’s prostrate as he stretched him, he was excited by the way that Peter responded to his ministrations, and his cock was aching and eager by the time he pulled his fingers out and moved up on the boy.

“Ready, honey?” he whispered, guiding the head to Peter’s hole.

“Yes. Please.”

Peter’s body shifted under Tony, proving – _again_ – that he’d probably done this before. His knees came up a little, moving clear, and he relaxed at just the right moment when Tony began to press against him.

“So polite,” the older man murmured, feeling a surge of eagerness as the head of his cock passed through the tight ring of muscles that had first tried to keep him out, but were now welcoming him in. “And so _tight_…”

Peter groaned as Tony filled him, but it wasn't a pained sound and Tony didn’t stop until he was completely hilted inside him. Then he was still for a moment, giving both of them a moment to catch their breath.

“You good?” Tony asked, just to make sure.

Peter’s hands went around him, to his back, while the boy’s legs held his hips, tight.

“Yes. Don’t stop.”

Tony didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He buried his face in the junction of Peter’s shoulder and neck and began moving, pulling back and then sliding in, slowly at first and with more force when the younger man responded with pleasured noises and tightened his grip on the man above him.

“So good,” Tony groaned, his ardor building, his thrusts harder, now, and shorter, his hips jerking as he grew close to his release “So fucking good. So tight. So eager for me.”

He bit Peter’s shoulder and felt the boy’s fingernails tighten in the skin on his back, almost painfully – although at the moment the pain was so perfect that it only drove him to harder thrusts. He groaned and snapped his hips forward, again, grunting in triumph and satisfaction as he climaxed, his arms holding Peter tightly, but not anywhere close to as securely as Peter was clinging to him.

As his balls emptied into Peter’s tight body, Tony’s hips jerked and he moaned, softly, against Peter’s neck. When he could think, again, he reached down between them and found Peter’s cock, hard and dribbling precum, smearing their bellies with his eagerness. Tony kept his head where it was, and kept his cock where _it_ was, and worked Peter’s rod, whispering dirty talk and promises of all the fucking and sucking they would be doing as the boy rocked under him, reacting in the best of ways until he climaxed, too.

“_Shit_…” Peter gasped, breathlessly holding Tony’s body in place, even though he could feel the man’s cock sliding out of him, replete. “That was pretty good, Tony.”

“_Pretty_ good?” Tony echoed, amused. He turned his head, kissing Peter’s neck and then his jaw. “That’s it?”

“Well, I don’t want to set the bar too high,” he replied, running his fingers through Tony hair, stroking him and petting him. “What if we want to go again, sometime? You wouldn’t have any goals.”

Tony chuckled, and lifted himself up, looking down at their bodies, and then at Peter, kissing him and enjoying the sight of him so perfectly under him, open to him.

“I could be talked into a repeat performance,” he assured him, brushing his fingertips through the cum smeared on their bellies, and then licking his finger while Peter watched. “_Later_, though.”

Peter smiled at that, and stretched, bringing his legs down, but not minding having them open, still. It was comfortable, and Tony’s body fit between them so perfectly.

“Did I hurt you?”

Since he could feel the scratches Peter had put on his back in the throes of their loving, he shrugged.

“I can live with it. You’re okay?”

“Yeah. It was good. The best way to start the day.”

Tony kissed him, again.

“Now we wait and see…”

“See what?” Peter asked, curiously.

“If you’re one of those guys that falls asleep after sex, or if you’re a cuddler.”

The boy reached for him.

“We already _know_ I’m a cuddler.”


	9. 9

They lounged in bed for a long time, neither in any hurry to leave the other’s side, and having no real reason to do so. Tony gathered Peter against him, enjoying the warm body next to him, and how well he fit against him.

“Is there anything you’d like to do today?” he asked, solicitously. “Or do you want to spend the day in my bed, with me inside you?”

Peter laughed, knowing that Tony wasn't (very) serious, but enjoying the fact that the older man was eager to be with him.

“I’d like to go to my apartment,” he replied. “And see if anything there jogs my memory.”

“We can do that,” Tony agreed. “Then we can see if you’re a slob, too, and pick you up some warmer clothes.”

“And _if_ I’m a slob?” Peter challenged, and Tony could hear the smile in his tone. “Will you make me stay home, instead of bringing me back home with you?”

“No.” _That_ wasn't going to happen, now was it? “I’ll just have the cleaning lady come more often.”

><>>><><><> 

“This is a nice place…”

Peter looked around the living room of the small apartment like it was the first time he was seeing it – just like Tony was. Not surprising, the older man thought. It was a nice place; nowhere near as majestic as Tony’s, of course, but it was light and airy and looked well lived in.

“Yeah.” Peter sounded almost surprised. “I live here alone?”

“No one else on your lease,” Tony confirmed, walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge, curious what kind of food Peter actually did like to eat. He frowned. “You have a science experiment forming in your milk jug.”

Peter had been looking at a picture on the coffee table beside a small stack of schoolbooks, but he walked into the kitchen to look over Tony’s shoulder at the contents of his fridge. Sure enough, the milk was expired and when Peter picked up the plastic jug there was definitely the sound of clumping milk.

“Maybe I’m trying to see how long it takes to make cottage cheese?”

Tony snickered, but the rest of the contents of the fridge seemed fine; there were even fresh vegetables that didn’t show any signs of wilting. Peter didn’t live on junk food, it appeared.

“Maybe. Do we throw it out, or keep it?”

“It’s fine, for now,” Peter told him. “I’d like to look around before I start cleaning.”

The living room looked fairly tidy, though, and the bedroom was only a little messy when the two men walked into it a moment later. The bed was made, covered in a green comforter and a stack of pillows, with a stand next to the bed that held a lamp, a bottle of water, a wallet and a cell phone.

The walls were covered with movie posters, posters of scientists that both of them recognized, immediately. There were also _four_ Ironman posters and two of Tony Stark, looking bold, handsome and extremely confident.

Stark smiled.

“Should I be flattered, or think about filing for a restraining order?”

Peter blushed.

“It’s probably just left over from when I was a kid,” he said, pretending to be defensive, but more amused than anything. He picked up the cellphone, pushing the home button, which brought up the lock screen, but he couldn’t think of the passcode. “I wonder why I didn’t have my phone and wallet with me. That doesn’t make much sense.”

Unless you were out swinging through the city, Tony thought silently. Better to not risk having it fall out of a pocket, or something. Peter was a smart kid, even beyond his good grades. Or maybe he’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“Take a look at your contacts,” he suggested. “Maybe we can get an idea of who you hang out with.”

Peter looked at the phone, again, wracking his thoughts for a number, but he shook his head.

“I can’t remember my code.”

“Here.” Tony took the phone from him, activated his suit and pressed the proper code in only a moment before handing the now unlocked phone back to the younger man. “Easy-peasy,” he said, retracting his suit.

“Wow. That’s handy.”

Tony smirked.

“We all have our superpowers,” he said. “I’m going to look around while you look through it.”

Peter nodded, sitting on the edge of his bed and looking at the phone.

“If you find any stashes of money and a ski mask or something just assume I was doing some gambling in Iceland, or something…”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stark said, walking out of the room to give Peter some privacy.

Ten minutes later, Peter joined him in the living room.

Tony was seated on the couch, munching on an apple that he’d found in the crisper drawer of the fridge and flipping through one of the textbooks from the coffee table. He looked up when the boy sat down beside him.

“Any luck?”

“I have _three_ contacts,” Peter told him. “Someone named Ned, a Chinese place and a person labeled _Professor Dixson_.”

“Ned?” Possible boyfriend, maybe? “Did you call him?”

“No.” Peter hesitated. “What would I say. Hi, this is Peter. Do you know me? And _how_?”

“It would be a start. Has _he_ tried to call you?”

“No. No messages or missed calls in the last few days. I’m going out on a very short limb and assuming that I’m a loner.”

He sounded disappointed, and Tony draped an arm around him, warmly.

“Or you’re just too good for the rest of the world…”

Peter rolled his eyes, but he was obviously pleased by the attempt to cheer him up.

“But the _Chinese place_ is good enough for me?”

“If the food is worth eating, it is. Give me your phone for a minute.”

Peter did as he was told, and Tony tapped a few buttons, looking smug as he then handed it back, and the boy had to smile when he saw that he’d added himself to Peter’s contact list.

“Now I have _four_ contacts.”

“A teacher, a restaurant, a friend – presuming this Ned guy isn’t your bookie, or something – and one superhero.”

“I’m moving up in the world.”

They sat on the sofa for a while, and Tony had FRIDAY look up Ned. Not that there was a last name or anything, but they had his phone number, and really that was all the AI needed.

“So, he’s in some of the same classes that you are,” Tony reported, pulling out his tablet to show Peter a picture. “And the two of you went to high school together. Look familiar?”

Peter shook his head.

“He looks like a friendly guy.”

“FRIDAY found a plane ticket in his name going to Palm Springs – leaving a couple of days ago and back in two weeks. I’d say we know why he hasn’t called you or come looking for you.”

“Yeah.” He looked around. “This isn’t too bad. No signs of any roommate?”

“Nope. You definitely live here alone. No roommate, no pets.” He held up a picture that he’d found of a young couple with Peter – who was maybe in high school, or younger. “Do they look familiar?”

“No. My parents?”

“No. You’re too old in the photo. I’d say your aunt and uncle – even though it isn’t labeled.”

“No reason for me to, though,” the boy pointed out, looking at the photo with a little frustration and some sorrow. “Not if they were relatives.”

“Yeah.” Tony pressed a kiss against Peter’s forehead. “I looked in your bathroom. Your reading material is varied; popular mechanics and porn.”

Peter rolled his eyes, blushing.

“Tasteful, at least?”

That made Tony smile.

“I’m pretty sure porn isn’t intended to be tasteful. Do you want to me to leave you here?” he asked. “So you can look around some more without an audience?”

The boy shook his head, immediately.

“I don’t want to be alone. Please?”

“You don’t have to be,” the billionaire assured him. “So the next decision you need to make is do we stay _here_ – together – or do we get some of your things and let you move in with me, for now?”

“You’d really let me stay with you?”

“I would.” He shrugged. “Might need to charge you rent, though. I probably can’t afford to feed you.”

Peter chuckled at that, feeling a little better. Which was certainly Tony’s intentions.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey. Get some clothes packed – and your toothbrush. We’ll go find some Chinese for lunch.”

><><><><><> 

The Chinese place on Peter’s contact list was a place that Tony had never been – nor surprisingly. It was also fairly busy.

“Eat here or take it with us and eat it at home?” Tony asked Peter, making sure his expression told the young man that he didn’t care one way or the other and it was up to him.

“If we take out, it’ll be cold,” Peter reminded him.

They weren’t that far from Tony’s apartment, but with the traffic, it would be a fair amount of time.

“Eat in it is.”

The man behind the counter smiled, cheerfully, at him. He was a wizened old Chinese man who looked Tony over, carefully, but obviously didn’t recognize him as Ironman – or as Tony Stark.

“Peter! How are you?”

The boy smiled, uncertainly, but shouldn’t have been surprised that the man recognized him. Not if he came in enough that the place was a contact on his phone.

“Hi. I’m good, thank you. How are you?”

“Good. Did Ned leave for the family thing, already?”

Peter nodded.

“Yeah, a few days ago.”

The man smiled.

“Maybe he will bring back a girlfriend, finally.”

Which told Peter that the Ned guy – _probably_ – wasn't a boyfriend. It had almost been nagging in the back of his mind, because if Ned was his boyfriend, then what he’d done with Tony (which had been incredible) would have had to be a one-time thing. Peter didn’t really want that.

“Maybe.”

“You want the usual?”

“Uh… yes, please.”

“And your handsome friend? What does _he_ want?”

Tony smiled, not above being pleased at being called handsome. Even by a guy old enough to be _his_ father.

“_I’ll_ have Peter’s usual, too.”

“Go find a place to sit; I’ll have it brought out.” Peter reached for his wallet, but the old man raised his hand to stop him. “We’re not even, yet, for the refrigerator repair you did for mamma. Still on us.,”

Peter was confused, but tried not to let it show.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Go sit down.”

They were shooed away, imperiously, and went to find a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant.

><><><>>

“Your taste in Chinese food is pretty good.”

Peter nodded, setting his chopsticks down and taking a sip of the coffee that had been brought out even before their meal. It was black and strong and hadn’t come with any cream or sugar, so Peter assumed they knew he liked it the way it was presented. Tony declined cream and sugar as well. The meal had been good, too, when it arrived, brought by a server who greeted Peter like an old friend and smiled at Tony, knowingly – which made the billionaire think that she knew the two of them had been sleeping together, and approved.

“Yeah. It was good.”

Tony looked around. The place had been busy, but there was a lull, right then, and he wanted to take advantage of it.

“I’ll be right back, honey.”

“Okay.”

Peter pulled out his phone and started looking through the apps, trying to get an idea of what he liked to do with his phone. Tony got up and wandered over to the counter to speak with the employees.

><><><><>><><>< 

They left the restaurant quite a while later, walking down the sidewalk toward the parking garage where Tony had parked the car.

“You’re quiet…” Tony said, reaching for Peter’s hand with his and then putting them both in the pocket of his coat to keep it warm.

“Just thinking,” he replied. “Trying to make myself remember.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” the billionaire told him. “You know that.”

“I _know_. But I want to remember…” he sounded frustrated, and Tony understood, completely. “Those people know more about me than I do, right now.”

“Yes, they definitely do,” Tony agreed, giving Peter’s hand a squeeze in his pocket. “Want to hear some of it?”

“What do you mean?”

Tony smirked, looking pleased with himself.

“I was talking with them, remember?”

“Yeah. About…?”

“I told them that I was trying figure out how to get the courage to ask you out, and asked them for anything they could tell me that might give me the upper hand.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. And everyone in that place seems to think that you are overdue for a relationship.” He smiled. “And I agree, by the way. They spilled their guts to me, more than willing to tell me what I needed to know in order to woo you.”

“What did they know?” Peter asked, curiously. “Did you hear anything interesting?”

“Oh, definitely interesting.” Tony squeezed his hand, again. “They were telling me all of your good points; you’re smart, kind, funny and generous – which I already knew. You fixed the compressor and motor in their walk-in refrigerator, saving them thousands on a new one, and didn’t ask for anything in return. You told them that it was good practice to keep your fingers nimble.”

“Which is what he meant, earlier, when he wouldn’t let me pay for our meal,” Peter guessed.

“Right.”

“What else?”

“Your friend Ned is definitely _not_ a boyfriend, but you guys spend a lot of time together. _You_ like men, and Ned is a ladies’ man – he tried to convince our waitress that she should come home with him for Thanksgiving.”

“But she declined?”

“She’s holding out on the hopes of converting you.”

Peter blushed, pleased at the implied compliment and uncertain what to say to that. He hadn’t noticed she was flirting with him. Maybe he was such a loner because he was clueless.

“Oh.”

Tony’s smile was warm and his hand on Peter’s was possessive.

“I admit I’m holding out hopes of my own on that score…”


	10. 10

They walked in silence to the car, and Tony opened Peter’s door for him, only letting his hand go when he absolutely had to.

To keep it warm, of course.

“Want to stop anywhere before we go home?” he asked when he got behind the wheel.

“No. I’m tired.”

He was filled with a ton of carbs and ready to sleep them off on the sofa in front of the TV.

Peter waited until Tony had them out of the garage and on the street before he put his hand on the billionaire’s leg, feeling the muscles under the fabric of his jeans flex every time he accelerated or slowed.

“Tell me more about me. Did you learn anything else?”

“You’re thinking about being a pediatrician,” he replied. “You were right about that.” Another one of those small victories. “You hate rap and you like to dance.”

“I do?”

“So I was told.” His own hand covered Peter’s. “We’ll have to test that, sometime.”

They discussed the other things Tony had learned as they drove to his much more exclusive apartment than Peter’s had been, and Peter was a little surprised by how much Tony had learned from people that weren’t even really friends, just acquaintances from a place that he liked to eat.

“Imagine what this Ned guy would be able to tell me,” he said, shaking his head as they walked into the apartment.

“We _could_ call him,” Tony offered. “If he’s as good a friend as we’re being led to believe, he’d probably be willing to come and help us figure you out.”

“I don’t want to worry him – or ruin his holiday,” Peter said, dropping the suitcase that he’d brought from his apartment down at the door and taking off the warm coat that they’d found there. It had been cold out. “When he gets back I’ll ask him, then.”

Tony didn’t argue. He had sloughed off his jacket, too, and he picked up Peter’s bag and carried it into the guest room – even though he really wanted to just put it in his own. That would have been presumptuous, however, and while that would have been almost automatic with anyone else, he was being more careful with Peter. Yes, he’d made love to him already, and the younger man had clearly enjoyed it, but he was already having a rough time of things because of what Tony had inadvertently done to him, the man wasn't going to make things worse with an assumption.

Peter followed him into the room, looking around.

“You’re _sure_ you’re okay with me being here?” he asked. “I don’t want to impose.”

Stark put the suitcase on the bed, and then turned and pulled Peter into his arms, threading his fingers through his hair and guiding his head to his shoulder.

“You’re not an imposition, honey,” he assured him. “You’re a bit of a mystery, though, and even if I wasn't already infatuated with you, the whole mystery thing would have hooked me by now.”

Peter snorted, softly, somewhat amused. Obviously from the posters in his own apartment, he was just as infatuated (and probably much more) with Tony and his alter-ego.

“What are you going to do when we find out that I’m boring?”

Tony heard the uncertainty in his voice that Peter was probably trying to hide. He leaned back just a little, tilting his head up so Tony could claim a kiss before looking into those wonderful brown eyes. Intelligent, wise and innocent all rolled in one.

“I doubt you’re as boring as you think you are, Peter,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I know you’re not.” Before the boy could ask what he meant, Tony kissed him, again. “Get unpacked, change into something more comfortable and come sit in front of the fire with me, yeah?”

Peter nodded, his lower lip vanishing between his teeth.

“Okay.”

><><><><>>< 

By the time Peter had finished stowing the clothes he’d brought with him into the dresser and the toiletries into the bathroom and had changed into sweats, Tony had also changed and had coffee brewing. He gestured for Peter to head for the sofa, which was already being warmed by the fire in the fireplace.

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

Peter sat down and rested his cheek against the soft leather of the back of the couch while he watched Tony putter in the kitchen. When he came into the living room with a couple of mugs in his hand and gave one to his guest, he also ran his hand, lightly, over his cheek.

“How do you feel?”

“Full.”

“Tired?”

He had that almost drunk look that people tended to wear when they were tired but trying to stay awake to be polite. It was endearing.

“A little,” Peter admitted. “I’m trying to remember what happened, but nothing is coming to me. Just darkness. And that fire alarm that I think I heard. And maybe a fire truck – but I could be making that up.”

“No. There was a fire alarm, so there was probably a fire truck.”

“Where did you find me?”

“Queens. Not too far from your apartment, really.”

“Oh. It was pretty late?”

“Not really. Just after midnight.”

Peter frowned.

“Pretty late to be outside – alone.”

They’d already determined that he was a loner, so he clearly wasn't heading to a club, or something.

“Why don’t you stop trying to think about it?” Tony suggested. “Maybe if you relax a little, it’ll come to you.”

He hoped not, though. Not until he could figure out a way to come clean about the whole deal – and decide whether or not to tell the guy he was Spiderman. He didn’t want to freak him out, and definitely wasn't ready to have Peter angry with him and storm out of the apartment – and his life.

Peter looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he shrugged.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I am.”

“What were _you_ doing out so late?” the younger man asked. “The Ironman thing?”

He’d looked up Ironman, feeling a little chagrined that he even _had_ to, considering the posters in his apartment. The superhero was crazy amazing – with all kinds of tech to fall back onto. Tony Stark was no less amazing as far as tech and brains, although he was clearly a lot more egocentric than Peter (maybe?) and was definitely a showman and a self-promoter.

Peter had read that he used to sell hi-tech weapons and had made a killing (figuratively and literally) on the business, but had then returned from a kidnapping situation and had made a turn around when he’d become the superhero Ironman.

The man sitting beside him seemed to be much more down to earth and calm than the one that he’d read about.

“Something like that,” Tony said. “Queens is a bit out of my range, normally, but I was checking a few things out.”

“Did you see me fall?” Peter asked, curiously. “Did I trip? Or did I fall in one of those bakery delivery chute things? An open manhole?”

“None of the above,” Tony told him, setting his coffee aside. “You were a bit higher up than that.”

“Oh.” He did have a few deep bruises, aside from the headwound, so he supposed that made sense. “Did I fall out of a window?”

“No. I thought you were going to stop trying to remember…?”

“Yeah. No. I _am_. I was just curious…”

Tony nodded.

“I know, honey. I just think that this is one of those things that you should eventually remember, rather than have me tell you. It might be easier for you, that way.”

And it would definitely be easier than trying to explain to him that he was swinging around on some crazy sticky webbing hundred of feet in the air trying to be a crimefighter.

Peter didn’t argue. He would figure it out, eventually.

_Hopefully_.

Of course, that train of thought wasn't reassuring, at all. His expression grew bleak, and worried, and the look he gave Tony was a little forlorn and scared – making him seem even younger than he already was.

“What do I do if I don’t ever remember?”

“You _will_.”

“The doctor didn’t say that it was guaranteed.”

“Peter… It’s only been a little while. Give it some time. Give yourself a chance to heal, okay? Don’t worry so much.”

“But-“

“Look, even if the absolute worse happens and you don’t remember anything, you’re still brilliant. You’re still going to be able to finish school and become an amazing pediatrician and take care of a million little kids who will love you forever. Right now, though, we’ll wait and see what happens. Maybe we’ll wait until your buddy Ned comes home and see if he can help trigger some memories, or something. Or we can try having you hypnotized.”

Which made Peter roll his eyes.

“So I’ll cluck like a chicken when someone say the trigger word…?”

Tony smiled.

“Maybe? It might be fun to see.”

The younger man sighed, and then lay down, putting his head on Tony’s leg, obviously wanting to be comforted.

“It’s scary, Tony…”

“I know, honey.” He rubbed Peter’s shoulder, lightly. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

“Think so?”

“I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m never wrong.”

Peter fell quiet, then, and Tony shifted just enough to make himself more comfortable, holding the boy’s shoulder to assure him that he didn’t need him to move off his leg. He reached for the blanket on the back of the sofa and covered Peter with it and smiled at the contented noise that he made as the billionaire tucked it around him, loosely.

“A pediatrician, huh…?” Peter murmured, warm, full and now ready to maybe take a nap.

“_Doctor_ Parker…” Tony said, approvingly, his hand sliding along Peter’s side, now, admiring how well developed the muscles were over the younger man’s ribs. Tony was in good shape, but he knew he’d never felt those muscles on himself – and almost certainly never would. “Wiping noses and handing out lollypops.”

The boy chuckled and rolled over to look up at him, and now his eyes were a little less afraid.

“Maybe I should do something a little more exciting with my life?”

Tony shook his head, and leaned over, awkwardly, and kissed him.

“I think you’d make an excellent pediatrician, Peter,” he told him, honestly.

Peter smiled, reaching up to brush his fingers along Tony’s chin, playing with the facial hair, there.

“A different kind of superhero, yeah?”

“Exactly.”

Peter turned, again, and caught Tony’s hand, holding it in his own, lightly, sliding it under his shirt to hold it against his stomach.

“What’s it like?” he asked. “Being a superhero, I mean. Pretty exciting?”

“Sometimes.” Tony ran his fingers along Peter’s abs, but never released the younger man’s hand. “It can be a little scary, too, though.”

“Yeah?”

“M-hmm.” Not that he’d ever have admitted that to anyone, before. “It can be.”

“How? Having people shooting at you?”

“Not so much that,” Tony told him. “Not for me, anyway. I wear armor, remember? I’m bullet-proof.”

Peter guided his hand lower, rolling onto his back to give the older man better access to him.

“Then how?”

“Because I hate the thought of failing,” Tony said. “Especially when there are a lot of people depending on you.” He ran his fingers under the waist of Peter’s sweats, caressing him, lightly. “I’m still learning how to be a team player, too, and looking out for others instead of just me.”

“Oh.” Peter closed his eyes, enjoying what Tony was doing, and the conversation. “I like that.”

“What?”

“That you’re still learning things. Even as old as you are.”

The billionaire rolled his eyes.

“I’m not _that_ old.”

Peter smiled at that, pleased that he’d been able to tease Tony.

“I think you’re perfect,” he assured him.

“I agree.”

It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes, and his smile grew.

“Smart ass.”

“Sometimes,” Tony admitted. He wrapped his fingers around Peter’s stiffening penis. “Are you going to let me take care of this for you? Or did you want to take a nap? You look tired.”

“Convince me.”


	11. 11

“I can do that.” The older man moved out from under Peter and as he did, he slid the boy’s sweats down and off, taking the blanket with them, baring him from the waist down. “What do we have here…?” he asked, moving Peter’s legs apart and slipping between them, smiling down at him. “I’m going to eat you up, honey.”

“Yes, Tony,” Peter said, arching just a little and lifting his head so that he could watch as the billionaire lowered his own and played with the head of the boy’s cock with his lips, only. “Make me beg you.”

“I can do that, too,” Tony assured him.

Then he proceeded to do just that.

His mouth roamed Peter’s body freely, hands sliding up under the t-shirt that he was wearing, his lips following. Peter moaned when Tony claimed one nipple, and then the other, licking, sucking and nipping, gently, while his hand never left Peter’s groin, stroking him as he played with him, watching as Peter grew more and more aroused under his ministrations.

“Yes…”

Tony chuckled, but didn’t lift his head and he sucked a mark into Peter’s chest before moving up on him and kissing him, hungrily, tongue demanding entrance into the boy’s mouth, tasting him, teasing him and then nibbling on his lower lip.

“Do I suck you, Peter?” he asked, in a whisper. “Or do I make you wait, watching as you writhe under me while I slide myself into you, pinning you under me and having my way with you?”

“_God_.”

“That wasn't an answer,” Tony told him. “So I get to choose.”

He reached his hand down to his own now awake and interested cock, stroking himself, idly, even though he’d already decided. He just wanted to make it more exciting for his lover, who arched up against him, unable to hold still.

“Please, Tony…” he moaned, helplessly. “I need you.”

“Jesus, Peter,” the older man said, breathlessly. He was so perfect under him, so anxious, so eager. Those long legs were already wrapping around Tony’s hips, holding him in place, and it was Tony who found himself ready to beg. “I’ll suck you later, honey. I need to be inside you.”

“Yes.”

Tony had to remove himself from Peter’s intimate embrace long enough to open the stand next to the sofa and pull a packet of lube. He’d already hurt Peter; he wasn't going to rely only on spit to make his entrance smooth and without discomfort, no matter how desperate he was to fuck him.

And he definitely _was_.

The boy watched; his brown eyes lit up with desire and want, while Tony returned to his spot between his legs and shifted him a little to get him right where he wanted. Peter hadn’t closed his legs, so it was a simple matter to bring his knees up just a little more and open him completely.

“You’re so tight,” Tony crooned, leaning over Peter’s belly and chest while sliding a slick finger into him, teasing him and playing with him as he stretched him. “So perfect for my cock, Peter.”

Peter whimpered, arching once more against the invasion, bringing him deeper.

“Please…”

Tony kissed him; so aroused, now, by what _Peter_ was doing – and he knew that he was eager, of course, but he was pretty sure _some_ of it was an act to excite Tony and make it even better for _him_, as well.

Which was also exciting. Tony’s cock was bobbing between them, throbbing in time to the billionaire’s now rapid heartbeat and leaking precum in buckets. He finished preparing Peter and then spread lube on his hand, rubbing it on his cock while he looked down between their bodies.

“So beautiful…” he murmured, guiding the head of his cock to Peter’s hole, and pressing into him, while they both held their breath at the intrusion. “So mine…”

He was buried in him in a moment, despite trying to prolong it, and rocked his hips, gently, a few times because he enjoyed the sensation – and the noises that Peter was making.

Peter’s hands went to his shoulders, holding him in place, while his own hips started rocking, as well, silently telling Tony what he wanted him to do, and shamelessly using the man’s cock to give himself pleasure until he was ready to give it to him.

Tony chuckled, softly, at Peter’s eagerness. He pulled himself out, almost completely, and then slid back in, a litany of dirty talk and compliments accompanying the action, and repeating it over and over, with each thrust becoming more and more insistent and forceful as his ardor grew. He angled slightly to find Peter’s prostrate and when he did, the younger man cried out in surprise and climaxed without Tony even touching him, spraying them both with hot cum and arching up so hard that he almost dislodged Tony, who held on tightly.

“Yes, baby,” he crooned in approval. Jesus, Peter was so responsive. “That’s it, honey. Get us dirty.”

He rode Peter through his climax and then worked him, hard, driving toward his own as the younger man clung to him. When Tony thrust himself deep and finally came, Peter made his own approving noise, and his legs were holding Tony so tightly that the man couldn’t have pulled out if he’d wanted to.

Which, of course, he _didn’t_.

He shuddered his release, held by Peter’s strong arms, and then collapsed on him, Peter’s cum on their bellies making a soft squelching noise as he did.

The younger man chuckled, either at the noise, or at Tony’s obvious satisfaction with how things had gone.

“I could get used to this,” the boy told him, turning his head and pulling Tony’s face down to him for a lingering kiss.

“Oh, Peter…” the older man said, peppering his face with tender butterfly kisses, almost desperately. “So could I.”

He just had to figure out how to make that happen, and get Peter back to his pre fall condition at the same time.

><><><><>> 

They cleaned themselves up and then spent the rest of the day on the sofa, cuddled together, comfortably. Peter drifted off to sleep almost immediately, but Tony was awake a while, wondering what kind of mess he’d gotten himself into.

He’d initially gone looking for Spiderman because he wanted to prove to himself that no one was as altruistic as the would-be superhero seemed to be, only to find that he’d been incredibly wrong. He still didn’t know _why_ Peter wanted to be Spiderman – _or_ how he did what he was able to do – but there was no doubt in his mind, now, that the young man was just as good and selfless as he’d been presented as being.

He wanted to spend more time with Peter. Wanted to get to know him, even more. Not just the sex – which was amazing, and exciting – but who Peter was and who Peter was going to be, eventually. The only problem with that was that Tony wasn't being completely forthcoming with what had happened – and _how_ it had happened.

He was sure that telling him would only confuse him (and he wasn't brave enough to tell him, anyway). _Hey, you’re a superhero wanna be, You can stick to buildings and you use this webbing stuff to swing through the city chasing muggers. Oh, and did I mention that I’m the reason you’re hurt? I wanted to catch you and prove you’re really as jaded and altruistic as the rest of us._

He was pretty sure that if Peter knew the truth, it would be the end of any time that they’d be spending together.

Tony didn’t want to be dishonest with Peter, but he didn’t really want to lose him, either.

“How the hell do I fix this?” he muttered to himself, softly, looking down at the young man who was dozing in his embrace.

Responding to either the despair in his tone, or the words, Peter roused, slightly.

“Hmmm?”

“Shh… nothing, honey,” Tony cooed, tenderly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Need me?”

“Always.”

Peter smiled, but he wasn't really awake, and it was only a moment before he was still, again.

Tony sighed.


	12. 12

When Peter woke, much later, it was fully dark out, and snowing, once more.

Tony had dozed off holding him, but he was ultra-alert at the best of times, and with Peter he was even more so. _He_ woke when Peter sat up, looking around, somewhat sleepily, and then stretching, before he leaned into Tony’s side rather than putting his head back on his leg and going back to sleep.

“You okay?” Tony asked him, brushing his fingertips along the young man’s cheek.

“Yeah. Had a weird dream, is all. What time is it?”

_“Nine o’clock.”_ FRIDAY supplied, helpfully.

“That’s so cool,” Peter said, impressed, as always.

“She likes to think she is,” Tony agreed. “How’s the head?”

“Doesn’t hurt too much.”

“How’s your _rear_?”

Peter smiled.

“Just the right amount of an ache for me to know I wasn't dreaming.”

“No dream, there, honey,” the billionaire assured him. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t we get up, make some dinner and then I’ll check your head and play nurse.”

“Or… we could just skip dinner and play doctor.”

Tony smiled, too, and he kissed Peter, gently.

“Nope. You need to eat and keep up your strength. We can play, later – if you’re good.”

The boy pretended to pout, but his eyes were amused and they both heard his stomach growl.

“Fine. But later I want an encore performance of earlier.”

“Hedonist.”

Peter didn’t deny it; instead he shrugged and stretched, languidly, allowing his shirt to ride up as he did and expose his bare stomach.

“I figure out what I like and I make sure to run with it,” he told Tony, unapologetically. “Besides, what if I get my memory back and it turns out I’m not infatuated with you, after all? Maybe all those posters had holes from darts and we just didn’t notice? I better take what I can get, while the getting is good.”

“I didn’t see any holes,” Tony pointed out. “Or _darts_ for that matter.” He didn’t even want to think about Peter getting his memory back and not wanting to be with him. His mind suddenly stuck on just that, though, the next kiss was much hungrier, almost desperate. “Come on,” he finally said, pulling away. “Let’s eat.”

><><><><><> 

“How does it look?”

“Really good.” Tony was surprised by just _how_ good the injury to Peter’s forehead looked – although, in retrospect, he supposed it made sense. The guy fell at least a hundred feet onto a sidewalk and came away with a bump and some bruises. Not only was he durable, but clearly he healed quickly, as well. “I’ll put a new bandage on it, but probably won’t need one in another day or so.”

“Really? That doesn’t seem right…”

“You’re the one in premed,” Tony conceded “But I’m the one looking at it.”

The boy shrugged.

“Maybe. Guess it wasn't as bad as we thought.”

“Bad enough.”

“Yeah.” He had the amnesia to prove it. “So I’ll live?”

Tony smiled.

“Yes, honey. I think you’ll survive.”

Peter held still while Tony put a new bandage on and taped it down, carefully.

“I like when you call me honey,” he said, as the older man was putting the supplies away.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I-“ He was interrupted by his phone, which was suddenly ringing. Surprised, Peter picked it up and saw that it was an incoming call with his friend’s picture on the screen. “It’s Ned.”

“Good.” Tony didn’t hesitate, despite his earlier concerns. If a conversation with his friend would help Peter get better and lose all the uncertainty that Tony had caused him, then he wanted that to happen. Despite his worries. “Answer it.”

“Hello?”

_“Hey. What’s going on in the big city?”_

Peter _did_ hesitate. He’d been serious about not wanting to interrupt his friend’s time with his family.

“Nothing much,” he said, affecting a nonchalance that was almost believable. “How is your family?”

_“Oh, don’t get me started about these people.”_ It was meant to sound like he was being put-upon, but even though Peter didn’t remember Ned, he could hear the love in the other guy’s voice when he was talking about his family. “_They asked why you didn’t come out. I told them you had other plans, but that they could try to convince you to come for spring break.”_

“Yeah. Sure. That sounds okay.”

_“Is it snowing there?”_

Peter looked out the patio window.

“Yeah. There?”

_“In Palm Springs?”_

“Oh.” Peter watched Tony roll his eyes, amused, and he shrugged. “You never know… global warming and climate change, or something.”

_“Are you okay?”_

“Yeah.”

_“Did you go out patrolling, this evening?”_

“Patrolling?”

_“You know; webbing.”_

Peter was clueless and it showed. Tony frowned, as he realized that the friend almost definitely knew what Peter could do. Maybe even how he did it. The older man made a motion with his hand, reminding Peter that Ned was expecting him to reply.

“Oh. Um, no. I’ve been busy.”

_“Doing what?”_

“I met someone.”

That much was true.

“A guy?” Ned asked, sounding incredulous. _“Tell me it’s a guy.”_

Tony smiled, which made Peter stick his tongue out at the other man and dodging when Tony made a grab for it with his fingers.

“It’s a guy.”

_“Cute?”_

Peter smiled as Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Moderately.”

Stark rolled his eyes.

_“Where did you meet him? What’s his name?”_

“On the street. Tony. Tony Sta-“ Tony shook his head, no, his eyes alarmed and Peter changed the name he was going to say. “Stansbury.”

Ned didn’t seem to notice. He was too excited.

_“You actually have spoken to him? In person? Not just emails and texts?”_

“He’s sitting right here beside me.”

_“Seriously?”_

“Yes.”

_“Why did you answer the phone, then?”_

“Because it was you.”

_“Jesus, Peter,”_ Ned complained, amused. “_You’re clueless. I’ll call you later. Have a good night.”_

The call ended, suddenly, and Peter looked at it to make sure it really had. Then he shrugged, looking at Tony.

“So… my friend Ned sounds like a good guy.”

Tony smiled.

“That, he does.”

Peter set his phone aside, stretching, and feeling pretty good. “I wonder what he meant by patrolling…?” Before Tony could open his mouth to reply one way or the other – and he didn’t know which way he was going to go – Peter interrupted himself. “It doesn’t really mean anything to me. _Webbing_? Maybe I was doing something on the internet.”

Tony shrugged, helplessly.

“Maybe…”

He was practically squirming, now, feeling guilty for not telling Peter what he knew – which only added to how guilty he felt for hurting the guy in the first place. Tony wasn’t used to the sensation, and it made him jumpy and a little irritable. Peter didn’t notice, but he _did_ smile at the older man.

“Ned thinks I’m clueless… but he doesn’t even know the half of it, does he?”

“Hopefully he won’t know until you’re better,” Tony told him.

“Yeah.” He looked at Tony, speculatively. “Are you tired?”

Just because he slept, earlier, it didn’t mean that Tony had.

“Not really. I don’t sleep all that much, usually.” “

Why?”

“Because my mind gets cluttered with ideas that absolutely have to be put down on paper and implemented. Then I get excited and want to see what it will look like and start building it, or developing it – and next thing I know it’s two days later and people are griping at me for not eating or sleeping.”

“Oh.” Peter hesitated. “Ironman ideas? Or tech ideas?”

“Both. I’m always looking to make the next, great, amazing breakthrough.” He touched Peter’s chin, thinking that with the brains that the younger man had, it might be interesting to him – and it was always enjoyable to Tony to share what he was doing with someone who was smart enough to keep up with him. Which never happened, because no one could keep up with him – but for Peter, he’d dumb it down, if needed. “Want to see what I’m working on?”

The offer was entirely worth it, because Peter’s beautiful eyes lit up.

“Can I?”

“Of course.”


	13. 13

“You know, I think you might be a little indulgent…”

Tony smiled, looking back at Peter as they walked to the elevator.

“Why do you say _that_, honey? Because I brought you down to my insanely expensive office building to show you my workshop in person, rather than bringing the information up on a display in my apartment?”

“No, because you held the door for me,” Peter said, facetiously. “Of course, because you brought me down here.” He looked around the incredibly expensive décor that adorned the hallways, wondering what the rest of the place looked like – and how busy it got when it wasn’t the middle of the night and empty. “This place is pretty nice.”

“Be it ever so humble…” Tony quoted, sliding his hand into Peter’s as he led him to an unmarked door. “All the latest gadgets and the newest incarnation of my Ironman suit.”

They walked into the workshop, with the door closing automatically behind them. The place was exactly what Peter thought it would be; brimming with technology and a lot of open space and tables to build and plan on.

“Wow.”

Tony smiled, proud of his place, and pleased that Peter was so impressed.

“FRIDAY? Bring up my latest project for Peter, will you? Put it on the main display, here.”

_“Are you sure you want me to do that?”_ The AI asked, making Tony frown.

That was a first.

“Yeah. Go for it. I don’t have anything to hide.”

There was a pause, and then the display in the middle of the room – a 3D display came alive, and Peter watched with interest as a long string of chemical elements came up. He frowned, wondering why it looked familiar, just as he heard an annoyed noise from Tony.

“FRIDAY, cancel that.”

The screen went dark, immediately, and Peter raised an eyebrow, looking over Tony, confused.

“What was that?”

“Science project,” he said, looking chagrined and something else that Peter couldn’t read in his expression. “Nothing exciting like my suits. FRIDAY? Bring up my latest _suit_ project for Peter…”

It wasn't surprising that Peter was immediately distracted by the Ironman suit specs that FRIDAY brought up a moment later. Not only were they extremely complex and interesting; especially Peter being a genius and in love with all things tech, but it was also Ironman, and they already knew that Peter was infatuated with the Ironman suit.

Even if he hadn’t _known_ it until they’d gone to his apartment.

Feeling like he’d definitely dodged a bullet, since the complex molecules on the display had been the webbing that he’d created with FRIDAY to catch Spiderman in the first place, Tony himself that sometimes he really _should_ listen to FRIDAY when she spoke up like that. He thought – for the briefest moment – that showing Peter the goo might help jog his memory, but Tony he pushed that idea, and the tinge of guilt that he felt to go with it, aside, and concentrated on showing Peter the nanotech in the suit, instead.

He was more than willing to explain to Peter what he was doing with the latest ideas for the suit, and show him how they would be added into the specifications for the existing suit that Tony wore, now.

The younger man’s questions were intelligent and insightful, and he even diffidently threw out a couple of suggestions, which made Tony smile but also feel yet another pang of hopelessness at the situation he’d created.

What the hell was he going to do? Maybe he’d ask FRIDAY, later.

><><><><> 

They stayed in the Tony’s workroom for several hours, both losing track of the time as they worked side by side, tinkering and tossing ideas back and forth. Peter was very much aware of the man beside him, and despite what they were doing, however, and would occasionally slide a hand along Tony’s arm, or his side, smiling when the older man would look over at him.

He wasn't trying to do more than simply acknowledge that he was happy to be there, though, and would simply turn his attention back to whatever it was Tony was showing him, rather than press for more contact.

It was endearing and enjoyable for the billionaire, who was so used to people that just wanted to be by him to gain something from the proximity. Either they wanted the reflected glory of being close to Ironman, or the excitement of saying that they had – or, of course, wanted something financially from him.

Whatever it was, Peter didn’t want any of that, and Tony found that _he_ was brushing a tender caress against the boy, occasionally, as well, in response.

It was well toward daylight when Tony heard Peter’s stomach growl, and felt his own clench, slightly, in response.

He smiled, pulled from the glove that he was adjusting.

“Breakfast time?”

Peter blushed, smiling.

“Yeah, I think so. Let’s go to my place. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Oh? Feeling ambitious?”

The younger man nodded, and shrugged.

“The worst that can happen is I prove I can’t cook, right?”

“True.”

“Besides,” Peter added. “I want you in my bed, once. Just so I can say it happened.”

Tony shook his head, bemused.

“Are you trying to make me your conquest?”

Peter’s answering smile was shy, and a little uncertain.

“While I can, yes.”

Eventually he was going to remember who he was, and was probably going to realize that Tony Stark was way out of his league.

Even worse, _Tony_ would know it, too, then.

Tony bent and brushed a kiss against his forehead.

“Then let’s go eat before people start showing up to work and find out that I’m here and want to talk to me.”

><><><><>< 

They chatted about the suit that they’d worked on while Tony drove them back to Peter’s, and while he made them a simple meal of toast, bacon and scrambled eggs. Nothing fancy, he pointed out, but Tony didn’t have any complaints.

“I’ll do the dishes,” Peter told him when they were finished eating. “Go find something to do.”

“I can’t help?”

Peter didn’t have a dishwasher in his apartment, like Tony (and _most_ people, most likely) did. He lived alone, though, so he assumed that he probably didn’t really need one to keep up with the few dishes that he would use for cooking solitary meals.

“You _can_,” he said, shrugging. “But you’re a famous superhero. Do you _really_ want dishpan hands?”

“I’m more than willing to wash a few dishes,” the billionaire told him, getting up from the table and carrying their plates to the sink. “Or I can _supervise_.”

He waited for Peter to come to the sink and start filing it with hot, soapy, water, and then moved behind him, his belly to the smaller, younger, man’s back. Resting his chin on Peter’s shoulder, he brought his arms around him from behind, holding him and watching the sink fill.

“That’s a bit distracting,” Peter pointed out, his breath hitching a little as Tony’s hand slid down his belly and under the front of the jeans that he was wearing.

“Oh?” Tony’s lips found Peter’s ear. “Is it?” he asked, innocently.

Peter melted against him, still determinedly setting the dishes in the water.

“A little bit, yes.”

The hand found what he’d been searching for, and Peter groaned in pleasure as Tony’s fingers wrapped around him, lightly stroking him.

“You should probably let them soak for a while, honey,” he murmured into Peter’s ear. “Come to bed.”

Peter brought his hand up to Tony’s cheek, wetting the older man’s skin and smearing a little soap along the line of facial hair.

“I’m not tired,” he told him.

Tony’s chuckle was positively naughty, sending a shiver up Peter’s spine, and causing his cock to twitch in Tony’s grasp.

“I’m counting on that.”

He released Peter, and handed him a dish towel to try his hands, and then led him out of the kitchen and through the apartment to Peter’s room.

“You won’t be too distracted by the posters?” the boy asked, looking at his walls, again. “I want you to do it right, after all…” he smiled. “I want you to do _me_ right…”

Tony’s smile was amused and aroused, both.

“I’ll make sure you never forget it,” he assured him, reaching for Peter’s shirt. “Get naked for me, Peter.”


	14. 14

It wasn't surprising that Peter was immediately distracted by the Ironman suit specs that FRIDAY brought up a moment later. Not only were they extremely complex and interesting; especially to Peter, who was a genius and in love with all things tech, but it was also _Ironman_, and they already knew that Peter was infatuated with the Ironman suit.

Even if _he_ hadn’t known it until they’d gone to his apartment.

Feeling like he’d definitely dodged a bullet, and reminding himself that sometimes he really should _listen_ to FRIDAY when she spoke up like that, Tony was more than willing to explain to Peter what he was doing with the latest ideas for the suit, and show him how they would be added into the specifications for the existing suit that Tony wore, now.

Peter’s questions were intelligent and insightful, and he even diffidently threw out a couple of suggestions, which made Tony smile but also feel yet another pang of hopelessness at the situation he’d created.

What the hell was he going to do? Maybe he’d ask FRIDAY, later.

><><><><><> 

They stayed in the Tony’s workroom for several hours, both losing track of the time as they worked side by side, tinkering and tossing ideas back and forth. Peter was very much aware of the man beside him, and despite what they were doing, however, and would occasionally slide a hand along Tony’s arm, or his side, smiling when the older man would look over at him. He wasn't trying to do more than simply acknowledge that he was happy to be there, though, and would simply turn his attention back to whatever it was Tony was showing him, rather than press for more contact.

It was endearing and enjoyable for the billionaire, who was so used to people that just wanted to be by him to gain something from the proximity. Either they wanted the reflected glory of being close to Ironman, or the excitement of saying that they had – or, of course, wanted something financially from him.

Whatever it was, Peter didn’t want any of that, and Tony found that *he* was brushing a tender caress against the boy, occasionally, as well, in response.

It was well toward daylight when Tony heard Peter’s stomach growl, and felt his own clench, slightly, in response.

He smiled, pulled from the glove that he was adjusting.

“Breakfast time?”

Peter blushed, smiling.

“Yeah, I think so. Let’s go to my place. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Oh? Feeling ambitious?”

The younger man nodded, and shrugged.

“The worst that can happen is I prove I can’t cook, right?”

“True.”

“Besides,” Peter added. “I want you in _my_ bed, once. Just so I can say it happened.”

Tony shook his head, bemused.

“Are you trying to make me your conquest?”

Peter’s answering smile was shy, and a little uncertain.

“While I can, yes.”

Eventually he was going to remember who he was, and was probably going to realize that Tony Stark was way out of his league.

Even worse, _Tony_ would know it, too, then.

Tony bent and brushed a kiss against his forehead.

“Then let’s go eat before people start showing up to work and find out that I’m here and want to talk to me.”

><<><><><>><> 

They chatted about the suit that they’d worked on while Tony drove them back to Peter’s, and while he made them a simple meal of toast, bacon and scrambled eggs. Nothing fancy, he pointed out, but Tony didn’t have any complaints.

“I’ll do the dishes,” Peter told him when they were finished eating. “Go find something to do.”

“I can’t help?”

Peter didn’t have a dishwasher in his apartment, like Tony (and most people, most likely) did. He lived alone, though, so he assumed that he probably didn’t really need one to keep up with the few dishes that he would use for cooking solitary meals.

“You _can_,” he said, shrugging. “But you’re a famous superhero. Do you _really_ want dishpan hands?”

“I’m more than willing to wash a few dishes,” the billionaire told him, getting up from the table and carrying their plates to the sink. “Or I can _supervise_.”

He waited for Peter to come to the sink and start filing it with hot, soapy, water, and then moved behind him, his belly to the smaller, younger, man’s back. Resting his chin on Peter’s shoulder, he brought his arms around him from behind, holding him and watching the sink fill.

“That’s a bit distracting,” Peter pointed out, his breath hitching a little as Tony’s hand slid down his belly and under the front of the jeans that he was wearing.

“Oh?” Tony’s lips found Peter’s ear. “Is it?” he asked, innocently.

Peter melted against him, still determinedly setting the dishes in the water.

“A little bit, yes.”

The hand found what he’d been searching for, and Peter groaned in pleasure as Tony’s fingers wrapped around him, lightly stroking him.

“You should probably let them soak for a while, honey,” he murmured into Peter’s ear, grinding his own pelvis into Peter from behind, silently letting him know what the contact was doing to his own body. “Come to bed.”

Peter brought his hand up to Tony’s cheek, wetting the older man’s skin and smearing a little soap along the line of facial hair.

“I’m not tired,” he told him.

Tony’s chuckle was positively naughty, sending a shiver up Peter’s spine, and causing his cock to twitch in Tony’s grasp.

“I’m counting on that.”

He released Peter, and handed him a dish towel to try his hands, and then led him out of the kitchen and through the apartment to Peter’s room.

“You won’t be too distracted by the posters?” the boy asked, looking at his walls, again. “I want you to do it right, after all…” he smiled. “I want you to do _me_ right…”

Tony’s smile was amused and aroused, both.

“I’ll make sure you never forget it,” he assured him, reaching for Peter’s shirt. “Get naked for me, Peter.”

><><><><><> 

They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Tony was a thorough, and experienced, lover – as Peter already knew and approved – and he didn’t hesitate to bring that knowledge to their lovemaking. Even when it was in Peter’s bed instead of his own. Or maybe _because_ it was Peter’s bed and not his. He brought the younger man to climax repeatedly, amazed and amused by just how quickly he was able to get hard again; a product of his youth, or of something to do with his Spiderman thing, Tony didn’t know – and was curious about, of course.

Which made him go to extraordinary efforts to test the younger man’s limits and see if he even _had_ any.

Once he had him finally turned into little more than a quivering mass of satiated jelly, he took his own pleasure and drew _that_ out as much as he could manage – to give Peter even more pleasure. Only then, with both of them exhausted from their loving and from pretty much being up all night in the workshop, did they fall asleep in a tangle of arms and legs, with Peter’s head on Tony’s shoulder, and his face buried in those soft curls that he was already so very fond of.


	15. 15

It was Tony who woke first, but it was _Peter_ who woke him.

The younger man was suddenly restless in his embrace, moaning, softly (and not in the _good_ way) and moving enough that Tony knew it wasn't the normal shifting that came with regular sleep. He didn’t open his eyes, sleepily trying to soothe him, assuming that it was a dream of some sort, but Peter rolled in his arms until he was on his belly and then had rolled completely out of his embrace.

Another motion and a soft noise of fear, and the boy rolled himself right out of the bed, landing with a thud and a startled cry that brought Tony upright and now wide-awake.

“Peter?”

“Please…”

“Hey…” Tony slid out of the bed and onto the floor beside him, but his young lover was awake now, and had scrambled to his feet, pressed back against the wall, breathing heavily and looking around, wildly. Tony moved to stand in front of him, ignoring for the moment that they were both naked. In the light that came from the big bedroom window, he could easily read the fear in his expression. “Peter. It’s okay, honey.”

Looking at him as if he just realized that he was there, Peter gasped, but only marginally relaxed.

“Tony.”

“Bad dream?”

“Yeah. I think…” he trembled. “I was flying… and then falling.”

No question where that came from, was there? Tony asked himself, chiding his stupidity, once more, as he stepped up to gather Peter into his arms.

“You’re alright, now,” he assured him. “Come back to bed.”

Peter did as he was told, and allowed Tony to gather him into his arms, seeking warmth and comfort in the older man’s embrace. Tony pulled the blankets back over them, and tucked Peter’s head under his chin, protectively.

“Tell me about your dream.”

There was a long silence, but he didn’t hurry him; either he was thinking it through so he could describe it, or he didn’t want to relive it. Either way, it was up to Peter.

“I was flying… only _not_ flying… and I was really high up. Then, suddenly, I was falling.”

“A memory, then,” Tony said, softly, caressing Peter’s back, tenderly. “Maybe you’re getting better.”

“I was _really_ high up, Tony,” Peter mumbled, sleepily. “No one can take a fall like that. Maybe I landed in a net, or something, and I just don’t remember it.”

“Some people are more extraordinary than others, honey,” Tony told him.

Peter was silent, thinking back on the dream.

“It was _exciting_,” he said, finally, into Tony’s neck. “Flying like that.”

“I still feel a thrill flying in my suit,” Tony said. “Every time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” He brushed his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Are you ready to get up, yet? Or do we sleep in a little longer?”

Peter stretched, languidly, debating.

“What are you going to do today?”

“Depends on if you’re tired of my company or not,” Tony told him, honestly. “I’d spend it with you, if you want? Or let you have some time to yourself, if that’s what you need.”

“I _probably_ want time to myself,” Peter said, uncertainly. “If I’m the loner that I seem to be. But I don’t really want to be alone, so where does that leave me?”

“In my arms all day,” Tony said, hugging him, close. “We’ll go to my place, though, if you don’t mind. I have a better view.”

“You must have something better to do with your day than spend it with me,” Peter pointed out. “You’re a superhero and you have a huge company to run…”

“I’m a _part-time_ superhero,” the billionaire told him. “And other people do all the work at my company. I just sit back and let them do their job. If someone needs me, they can find me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Peter,” Tony told him, sincerely. “Let me take care of you, alright?”

“Alright.”

><><><><> 

They didn’t get up, right away. Cold, snowy mornings were good for staying in bed, and neither was in a hurry to get up, shower and get dressed.

It was lunchtime before they made it back to Tony’s place, and by then they were both hungry. In deference to the fact that it was snowing, again, Tony made them a hearty meal of chili and cornbread and they both stuffed themselves with more than was probably good for them.

“What are you going to do for Thanksgiving?” Peter asked Tony, as they were cleaning up the kitchen. He hadn’t mentioned any family plans, but Peter knew that it was coming up the next week. “Do you have any traditions?”

He didn’t know if _he_ had any, but since he didn’t have a family, and so few friends, Peter assumed that he didn’t have any of his own.

“I do not,” Tony told him. “Usually, since it’s a holiday, the tower is deserted for the most part, so I’ll go there and get some work done. A four-day holiday for the others, but a four-day uninterrupted tech binge for _me_.”

“You don’t hang out with the other avengers?”

“Sometimes. They _invite_ me, but it’s not really my jam, so to speak. Family time and sitting around a table with others, telling each other how thankful we are? It’s not something I did as a kid, and not something I really have the family dynamic to do as an adult.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe we can do something together,” Tony said, offhand. “Go get some Chinese, or something.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, we’ll see,” the older man told him. “You might get a better offer, after all.”

Peter snorted; that didn’t seem very likely, really, but he smiled and shrugged.

“Maybe. So many people have been knocking down my door, after all. Did you notice them in the hallway on our way out of my place, earlier?”

Which made Tony smile; Peter had a good sense of humor – and this in the face of not knowing anything about himself. How much better would it be when he remembered? Of course, that would open up a whole different can of worms, now wouldn’t it?

“Maybe _they’re_ all on vacation, too.” He dried his hands on a dishcloth and pulled Peter close enough to press a kiss against his temple. “I think we’re done here. Do you want to watch a movie and while away a lazy day on my couch?”

Peter’s brown eyes were warm. He already had Tony figured out, and knew the guy wasn't that big of a fan of sitting still and watching movies. The fact that he was willing to do it meant that he was doing it for _Peter_, and that was nice of him.

“Really?” Better give him an out, though, if he needed it. Peter didn’t want him to think that he was obligated, or anything. “You don’t _have_ to, you know?”

“I want to. _Really_.”

He found that he _did_, too, Tony realized. Spending downtime with Peter was enjoyable – even when all they were doing was sitting and watching a movie.

The boy smiled.

“Sounds good.”


	16. 16

They spent another lazy day on the sofa, even though Peter’s head wasn't hurting him, now, and he felt fine.

He commented on how amazing he felt, all things considered, and Tony checked the wound on his head, pleased to find that it was healing nicely. Better than nicely, really, and he decided that there was definitely some kind of healing factor at play. He was tough, he was durable – and he healed quickly. All good traits in a superhero.

Even a novice one, like Peter.

He didn’t say that, though. Instead he settled back with Peter in one arm and a cup of coffee in the other, watched the flames in the fireplace and felt the warmth from the fire in front of him and the young, firm body beside him, while Peter watched a movie and idly played with Tony’s groin through the jeans that he was wearing.

By the time the movie was over, Tony was hard and Peter was antsy.

“What’s wrong?” the billionaire asked, when Peter had looked out the huge bay window of the apartment’s dining room for the fortieth time while they made a simple dinner of chef salad.

“I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

Tony looked out the window, too, but all he saw was growing darkness and a fairly heavy snow falling.

“Maybe you need some exercise?”

Peter tilted his head, slightly, looking at him artfully through his eyelashes. A look that made Tony’s cock jump, even though it had lost its interest while they’d been chopping ingredients for dinner.

“Maybe.”

He shook his head, amused. The kid had a libido that was off the charts. Either from being eighteen (probably) or having the extra energy that also gave him his healing ability and toughness (possibly).

“I _meant_ a walk.”

Which made Peter smile.

“Sure. A _walk_. That sounds good.” He slid his hand along the front of Tony’s jeans, brazenly. “But then, later…?”

Tony bit back a groan.

_Jesus_

“Then later, a different kind of exercise.”

“Let’s go for a walk, then.”

><><><><> 

The city was never deserted; there were too many people for that, of course. But there weren’t a lot of them out on the sidewalk with Tony and Peter as they walked down the block outside Tony’s apartment building. They were holding hands, and Tony once more had Peter’s hand in his coat pocket, keeping it warm.

“It’s pretty,” Peter said, looking up at the snow coming down. “I must like winter.”

“It sucks to drive in,” the billionaire told him. “None of my cars are designed for this shit.”

He preferred high performance sportscars and not a _snowplow_, thank you very much.

“Still _pretty_, though,” Peter replied, squeezing his hand, lightly, and opening his mouth to try to catch a snowflake on his tongue.

Tony was so caught up in the sight of Peter’s tongue sticking out and wiggling around that he didn’t recognize the danger that was coming toward them, suddenly. _Peter_ did at just the last moment. Something inside him tingled a warning that made him look over toward the road, just in time to see a car screaming around the corner of the intersection far too quickly for the conditions.

It hit a patch of ice caused by freezing slush and veered right toward the two men on the sidewalk.

“Tony, watch out!”

Stark felt strong arms wrap around him, heard a pained grunt and then the two of them were slammed to the snow piled on the side of the sidewalk with a terrific force.

Stunned by the sudden turn of events and with his breath knocked out of him, Tony took a moment to realize what had happened. Then several things were happening at once.

“Jesus fuck! You guys okay?” a voice said, anxiously, even as he felt someone grab his coat and pull him to his feet.

“_Tony_?” That was _Peter_, and the older man opened his eyes, clutching his side, tightly, and looked right into the boy’s worried brown eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” He was quick to reassure, even as he looked around. “Wow…”

The car wasn't a large one; a simple four door sedan. But it was solidly built and weighed enough that with the momentum that it had behind it when it hit them, it should have killed them. Instead, it was mangled. The front end was dented and leaking engine coolant, proving that the dent went deep enough into the engine well to have caused some serious damage. The owner was a young man who was probably not much older than Peter, and his eyes were wide with fright and shock – and a bit of consternation when he recognized Tony Stark as one of the men that he almost mowed down.

“I’m _sorry_,” he said, quickly, checking them both for injuries as well as he could with the heavy winter clothing they were wearing. “I lost control.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Tony snapped. “Driving that fast on the snow. You could have _killed_ someone.”

“I didn’t – I mean…” he trailed off, clearly confused.

Tony looked at Peter, worriedly. The boy was pale and looked even more shocked than the driver.

“Are you alright? He missed us?”

“No…” Peter looked at the car, and then down at himself. “He hit me square on.”

“What?”

Peter’s eyes were wide and a little wild.

“He hit me, Tony…” he said, his voice oddly lilted. “I grabbed you, but I slipped and couldn’t get us out of the way, and he hit us and knocked us down.”

“I didn’t mean to…” the driver said, again. “Look at my car… shit. I just _got_ it.”

“Well you should have practiced a few more times with it before bringing it out on the real road,” Tony snapped, again. He was worried, and scared, and that carried over into anger, just then. He looked back at Peter. “Are you hurt?”

“Yeah. I mean… it hurt… but I’m not _dead_. I probably _should_ be dead… or _mangled_? Or hurt more. Something broken. At _least_ something-“

“Hey…” Tony took hold of Peter’s shoulders, stopping the litany of injuries that he should have had. “Let’s get home so we can check you out, okay?”

“What about my _car_?” the driver asked.

The billionaire pulled out his phone and took a picture of the car – complete with license plate – and the kid before putting it away, again.

“You better call your insurance – and a tow truck.” He put a steadying arm around Peter, feeling a few bruises of his own forming. “Come on, honey, let’s get you home and check you out.”

><><><><><> 

They were silent as they walked back to the apartment, moving slowly because they were both pretty sore.

Peter was tense beside him; Tony could practically feel the uncertainty coming from the boy and knew that it was definitely going to be time for some sort of explanation. But not until he had a chance to check them both out and make sure they didn’t need a doctor.

“Take off your shirt, honey,” he ordered once they entered the apartment, and Tony had steered Peter into his bedroom.

He followed his own command and pulled his sweater and then the shirt that he had on under it off. His shoulder was a little stiff, and there was a spot on his side that ached. When he looked down at himself, he saw that there was a red mark – probably where he’d landed on the arm that Peter had wrapped around him.

“That’s going to bruise,” he predicted.

Peter had been a little slower to take his own outwear off, and when he _did_, they both looked at the younger man’s well-defined shoulders, chest and stomach. The _front_ looked fine, but Tony ran his hand down Peter’s body, sensitive fingers feeling for any swelling along his ribs and belly.

“I’m _fine_, Tony,” Peter assured him, still looking as little wild-eyed. “It hardly hurts.”

“Turn around.”

Peter rolled his eyes and did as he was told, and Tony whistled, softly, at the deep purple bruise that was forming on the small of Peter’s back.

“Not _fine_,” he said, brushing his fingers against the bruising, feeling for swelling. “Does that hurt?”

“A little, yeah.” It didn’t hurt as much as it should have, though. “Why aren’t you more freaked out about this?” Peter asked, wincing as Tony walked with him into the kitchen. “We should be _dead_.”

“_I_ should be,” Tony told him, going to the freezer and getting some ice, which he put into a zipper bag and then covered with a dish towel. “Thanks to you, I’m not. You were _amazing_.”

“But you aren’t surprised…”

“Lie down on the couch,” Tony told him. “On your belly.”

Peter did as he was told, making a slightly pained noise as he did.

“What’s going on? What do you know that I don’t?”

Of course, that list was probably a mile long, just then, the young man knew, but he knew that Tony would understand what he meant. He made a soft noise of protest when the ice pack was rested on the tender skin of his lower back.

“I told you that you were talented,” Tony reminded him. “Remember?”

“_Talented_?” Peter rested his cheek on a plush couch pillow. “Being able to draw more than a stick figure is talented. Getting hit by a car and jumping to your feet is _weird_.”

“You’re stronger than normal people,” he said, somewhat evasively. “But that doesn’t mean weird. Steve Rogers is stronger than everyone else, and he’s a _lot_ of things, but weird isn’t one of them. Unless always being sober, and being a do-gooder and having-”

“Am I an _alien_?” Peter asked. “And you’re just not _telling_ me?”

Tony shook his head.

“I doubt it,” he replied. “But _remember_; I haven’t known you any longer than you’ve known _me_. I was trying to find a way to meet you. To figure you out. I don’t know how you managed to survive being hit by the car, but it must be the same way that you survived the fall that you took that hurt your head.”

“I _feel_ human…”

Tony smiled, kneeling down beside the sofa.

“You _are_ human, honey. Just an extraordinary one. “

“What else can I do?”

“I don’t know. I was going to ask you when you fell and hurt yourself.”

“Oh.”

“How do you feel? Sore?”

“A little.”

“We’ll keep the ice pack on for a while and see how you feel, later. If we need to call a doctor, we can.”

“I don’t _feel_ like I need a doctor.”

“Well, then, just a quiet evening resting on the couch. Yeah?”

“But you really don’t know how I survived the car hitting us?”

“I don’t know,” he said, relieved that it was the _truth_. “All I can tell you is that I looked you up when I found out about you, and I didn’t see anything in your past that explains it.”

“We should rule out the alien thing…” Peter said, antsy and only holding still because his back was sore and he didn’t want to dislodge the icepack. “Can FRIDAY scan me?”

“She _did_,” he told the younger man. “When we found you.”

“Can I see?”

“Yeah.” Peter sat up, then, and Tony sat beside him on the sofa. “FRIDAY? Bring up the scans you took of Peter.”

The TV instantly displayed a very human-looking skeleton, and internal organs that looked exactly how they should.

“That looks right.”

“She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary,” the billionaire agreed. “You’re _human_.”

“Then what makes me able to do what I can do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you just won the genetic lottery. Maybe it’s a mutation.”

“I’m an X-Man…?”

“I didn’t _say_ that,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. The kid saw way too many movies. “Maybe there’s a circus strong man in your family history.”

“Can we do a blood test on me?” Peter asked, suddenly. “Do you have the equipment to do that?”

“No. Not here.”

“Your workroom?”

“Is for tech and electronics and nanites.”

“You told me the tower has other kinds of labs.” Peter was animated, now, anxious and eager. “There isn’t one doing any kind of medical research?”

“I’m sure there are…” Tony wasn’t as eager. “But I’m not a scientist, Peter. I’m a _builder_.”

“I am.” He stood up. “Come on, Tony. Let’s go draw some blood.”

“Wait.” He hesitated. “Don’t you think that this is something you should wait and do when you get your memory back?”

“You said you wanted to find out more about me,” Peter reminded him. “That you wanted to meet me so you could. Well, you met me, right? Now we can find out.”

He hated having his own words thrown back at him, even when it was innocently done, like Peter had. He couldn’t think of any reason to say no, though, and was interested, of course – he just had the worst feeling that none of this was going to end well.

The kid wasn’t like Bruce, though. He didn’t need to get angry to be able to be strong, or durable. He just _was_. Maybe there was something in his blood that could explain it.

Peter threw him a hopeful, pleading look that made Tony groan. Those brown eyes that he was so addicted to were melting him from the inside out, and he had no resistance to them.

“Fine. But then we settle in and you get an icepack back on that bruise. Deal?”

“Yeah. Of course.”


	17. 17

They bundled back up and went to the garage. Peter had his hand on Tony’s leg while the billionaire drove carefully to the tower, unwilling to make a mistake like the kid that had almost killed them. Once more, it was a snap to get through security, despite the late hour. Tony owned the building and the company, after all. The security guards didn’t even question him as they walked through, and they didn’t ask who Peter was.

Of course.

This time, though, instead of going to Tony’s workroom, they went to one of the upper levels and down a dark corridor and into a small room. The lights came on when they entered, and Peter looked around with interest.

It was a research lab. A science lab. Not a workshop but designed for testing and experimenting on blood and flesh, and living creatures, large and small. He frowned as a flash of a memory forced its way into his mind, despite his interest in the room.

A different research lab. A long time ago. A small group of kids, maybe thirteen or fourteen, and he was with them.

“You okay?” Tony asked, startling Peter.

“What?” he shook his head, as if to clear it. “Yes. Sorry.”

“We don’t _have_ to do this,” the older man said, mistaking the hesitation as nervousness. “You’re fine the way you are. No one needs to know why.”

“I do,” Peter disagreed.

He and Tony looked through the neatly organized room until they found what they were looking for, and it was Peter who drew on memories that he didn’t know he had – or maybe more of those muscle memories that the doctor had mentioned when having Peter sign his name to learn his identity – and tied a ribbon of plastic around his upper arm.

“Don’t spill all over,” Tony told him, looking a little green when the boy took a syringe and applied it to the vein that popped up, nicely, after only a moment. “I don’t want to clean it up.”

Peter smiled at that and was soon almost expertly filling a small vial with his own blood.

“Hold that,” he said, handing the vial to Tony and pulling the needle. He disposed of it, and then rest of the items, putting a quick bandage around the crook of his elbow, even though he had a feeling that he didn’t really need to _bother_. “Now… does FRIDAY know how to analyze blood? Or do you need to program her, or something?”

“She’s connected with every network in the world, Peter,” Tony reminded him. “She knows how to do _everything_.”

Guided by his AI, Tony took charge of the blood sample and walked over to a large complicated – and _expensive_ – looking piece of equipment. He put the entire vial into a slot that opened, and they both watched as it was sucked into the machine. The device opened the vial, divided the samples into several smaller ones and then began making noises as it started doing its thing.

“How long FRIDAY?” Tony asked.

_“Results vary,”_ came the reply. _“Several minutes, an hour, or a day or two, depending on the test being performed. Standing around staring will not produce faster results.”_

Peter smiled at that.

“She just told us to go home?”

“Pretty much.” Tony was used to it. “Come on. Let’s go get your back iced.”

“It doesn’t hurt too much.”

“Good. It’ll hurt less with an icepack on it.” He brushed a kiss against the boy’s cheek. “FRIDAY? Lock down this lab – and do not share the results with anyone but myself.”

“_And_ me,” Peter added.

“And _Peter_,” he amended – although he hadn’t meant it to sound like it had come out. “We’re going home.”

><><><><><<<> 

“Do you think I can fly?”

Tony almost slid the car into a mailbox and looked at Peter.

“_What_?”

“Fly? You know? Like Superman. I wonder if I can fly…”

“You _fell_,” Tony reminded him, uncertainly. He didn’t know if he could fly, either, but logic said no. “If you could fly, you wouldn’t have fallen, right?”

“Huh. Good point.”

He was quiet, then, allowing Tony to concentrate on driving his high-performance sportscar on the slick roads back to the apartment, but the billionaire was watching him surreptitiously as he drove, worried.

He _should_ just tell him what he knew. Tell him now and give him the chance to scream and yell at him for what he’d done. But that was such a risk. What if he did more than scream and yell? What if he _left_? He wasn’t in any condition to go home, really, was he? He still didn’t know who he was. Anyone could take advantage of that lack of knowledge. Could make the young man believe anything, if they knew just how vulnerable he was, just then.

_Like you did?_ came the sly whisper in his mind.

Tony scowled, because he didn’t take advantage of Peter. He took _care_ of him. And, yes, they were sleeping together, but that had been _Peter’s_ decision. Tony had just let him seduce him. Which was completely understandable, after all – the kid was fucking beautiful and so incredibly sensual.

He wasn’t sure that the argument that he gave his conscious would hold up in a court of law, but it wasn’t a _court of law_ that he’d have to convince if the facts came out, now was it?

“What are you thinking about?”

Peter’s voice startled him out of his introspections as he pulled into the parking garage.

“What? Oh. _Nothing_.”

The younger man wasn’t convinced – mainly because Tony was lying.

“You look worried.”

“I _am_.”

“About _me_? I’m fine. It hardly hurts. _Really_.”

“No.” The denial was as automatic as the first one. “I’m not worried about you, honey. I mean, I _am_, yes, but I’m not.”

“Then what?”

Tony shook his head.

He could say it. Just blurt it out and let the cards fall where they would. Peter was a reasonable guy. Smart. Wonderful. Understanding?

“I’m just worried about your blood tests,” he said. “In case we prepped the sample wrong and things come out messed up.”

He couldn’t risk it.

“We did it right,” Peter assured him, resting his hand, lightly, on Tony’s leg as if to reassure. “I’m pre-med, right? It’s probably the first thing they taught me.”

Tony nodded, allowing his expression to look a little less concerned – although his mind was still clearly troubled.

“Probably.”

Peter’s expression grew a little tight.

“You think the blood test will show something terrible?” he asked, suddenly feeling the other man’s concern and allowing it to worry him. “Maybe I _am_ an alien? Or some kind of weird hybrid? Or-“

“Peter.” Tony’s hand covered his. “I don’t think you’re any of those. Whatever it is, you’re amazing, and wonderful, and brilliant. Not weird. Not terrible.”

He didn’t look convinced – although Tony’s expression was completely sincere. It should be since he meant every word.

“But-“

“No buts. Come on.” The billionaire brought Peter’s hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss against his palm. “Let’s go get you off your feet and an icepack on your back, alright?”

“I don’t feel too bad. I probably don’t need to ice it.”

“Well, you’re going to. You’re pre-med, remember? Get used to telling people it needs iced. That’s the first thing every doctor says. Even if the injury is their own.”

Peter shrugged, and allowed himself to be guided from the garage, to the elevator, to the apartment and then to the living room.

“Bed or couch?” Tony asked, taking the boy’s coat off, and draping it over his own on the back of a chair, for now.

“Are you going to sit with me?”

“Yes.”

“Couch.”

“FRIDAY, turn on the fireplace.”

The flames came up, immediately, filling the room with extra warmth. Peter pulled his shirt off, and sprawled belly down on the sofa, leaving a space by his head. A Tony-sized space, in clear invitation.

“Ow…”

“Hurts a little?”

“Yes. A _little_.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t feel like lounging in jeans, so he prepared another icepack and settled it in place on the small of Peter’s back, brushed a gentle kiss against the boy’s lips, and went into his room, closing the door. As he undressed, he had a short – _private_ – conversation with his AI.

“When the blood tests come back, I don’t want you to announce it where Peter can hear,” he told her. “Not because I want to keep anything a _secret_,” he added – annoyed with himself for trying to explain his motivation to a voice in the wall. “I just want to know what we’re looking at, first, so I can break it to him, gently, if there’s something way out of whack. Got it?”

_“Sure.”_

It was probably his imagination, but she didn’t sound convinced of his good intentions.

Scowling, Tony changed into a pair of lounge pants and a thermal long-sleeved shirt and went back into the living room.

“Still awake?” he asked, softly, wondering if super healing took more energy.

“M-hmmm…”

The reply was sleepy, though. Peter was soaking up the warmth of the fire like a lazy cat, and watching the flames, which were almost hypnotic.

“Can I sit with you?”

“M-hmmm.” He lifted his upper body in open invitation, and Tony slid into the spot, guiding Peter’s head to his leg to allow him to relax, again. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, honey,” Tony told him, bringing a blanket over them. “Everything’s fine.”

But it wasn’t even close, Tony knew


	18. 18

Peter fell asleep.

It was easy enough to do; he was warm, comfortable, and despite the slight throbbing emanating from his lower back, he felt pretty good. All things considered. Tony’s leg under his cheek and a hand somewhere above him brushing caresses against his shoulder and occasionally his hair was soothing. Enough that it allowed his sleepiness to overcome his uncertainty about who he was and what he was capable of doing.

He fell asleep thinking about the lab that they’d been in and ended up dreaming about the same.

_In his dream, though, with his conscious mind no longer trying to force the memories that were so tantalizingly close, he saw another lab, instead. The lab that he’d seen before. Surrounded by others – who he now recognized as classmates. They were on a field trip to a research lab._

_He dreamed of standing off to the side, watching as a scientist explained something complicated about radiation affecting changes in the very DNA of the creatures that had been living in the areas in the desert near the nuclear bomb tests in the deserts of the west. It had been interesting enough that he hadn’t even noticed that something had been crawling on is neck until it was much too late._

_A sharp pain, and a slap of annoyance, he swiped his hand away and saw a tiny speck of black fall onto the shoulder of the t-shirt he was wearing. Repulsed, he brushed it off shivering, and looked up – as if expecting a million more to be waiting in ambush._

_The next day had found him waking up fevered and sick. Sick enough that May and Ben had been worried enough to take him to the doctor. The histamine treatment had seemed to do the trick, though, and he felt better even before they’d left. And hadn’t needed to go back._

_But that was when all the weird things began happening._

_And when the terrible things had, as well._

_Ben dying. May dying eventually, but after Peter had decided that if he had powers then he needed to step up and take care of the people who didn’t have any. Ned telling him that he could be an Avenger. That he should tell them what he could do – maybe a tryout, like if he wanted to join a football team or something._

_Peter rolling his eyes._

_“They’re too elite for someone like me,” his memories reminding him. “Could you see Spiderman hanging out with Ironman? Or Tony Stark?”_

_That’d be nuts._

_Or a very cool fantasy. One or the other._

_His mind flittered to other scenes, randomly._

_Stopping a runaway bus. _

_Saving a kid._

_Stopping a mugging._

_Odd things that he seemed to do easily._

_A dark night. A fire alarm in the distance. Turning to see Ironman – seemingly hiding on a balcony – waiting. Watching._

_Being tangled and then falling – and then nothing_.

Peter came awake with a start and a strangled gasp as the memories that had been there, lurking, suddenly all came crashing to the fore. Ignoring the spasm of pain in his back and the startled yelp from the man that he’d been sleeping on, he rolled to his feet, looking around, wildly.

“Peter?”

Tony’s expression was concerned.

“I’m _Spiderman_.”

The secret was obviously out – at least with Tony. He _had_ to know.

The older man’s expression was chagrined, and worried, but he nodded.

“Yes.”

“You _knew_?”

“No.”

“You were there. When I fell.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I _told_ you; I wanted to meet you. “

Peter was breathing heavily, now, his mind processing torrents of memories.

“You ambushed me.”

“I can _explain_.” Tony held up a placating hand. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“By knocking me out of the sky and dropping me a couple of hundred feet to the sidewalk?”

“That was an _accident_. I just wanted to slow you down enough to get you to stop and talk to me. You were avoiding me.”

“Because you were _stalking_ me.”

“I wanted to meet you.”

Peter was in shock. His mind was numb, now that it had finally remembered, and he was shaking.

“I can’t believe this…” he said, feeling the beginning of a panic attack. “I… you should have told me what happened. Why did you bring me here? You should have-“

“You didn’t know you were _Peter Parker_,” Tony reminded him, also a little panicked. He’d known it was going to come, of course, but here it was. “How was I supposed to break the news to you that you were a wanna be superhero?”

Peter flinched.

“Is _that_ how you see me? A wanna be superhero?”

“No. Of course not. Not _now_. Now that I had a chance to get to know you. You’re-“

“I need to go. Oh Jesus… I can’t believe this. You… we… I can’t…”

“Peter… calm down. It’s-“

“We had _sex_.”

“Yes.”

“You lied to me.”

“No. Never.” That was the truth. He’d omitted left and right but had tried very hard to keep from lying. “I didn’t lie.”

Peter was hurt. And confused. And angry. Tears blinded him as he found his shirt and pulled it on over his head, still ignoring the ache in his back.

“You _used_ me.”

Tony scowled.

“_You_ seduced _me_,” he pointed out. “I never lied to you about us being in a relationship or anything.”

“You just let me believe that it was the kindness of your heart – that you liked me – and all along it was just guilt, or pity, or who the hell knows what…”

He slipped his feet into his shoes, now, and went into the guest room, with Tony right behind him, blocking the door.

“Peter, _stop_. let’s talk about this.”

“No. You _had_ a chance to talk to me about it. You had a _lot_ of chances to talk to me about it. All kinds of chances. You didn’t then, why should we now?”

“Peter-“

The younger man picked up his wallet and his phone.

“Do the other avengers know about me?” he asked, and Tony saw his beautiful eyes were agonized and filled with tears.

“No. Of course not.”

“Your dirty little secret?”

That hit close to home with Tony – mainly because it was _true_.

He couldn’t help that he flinched.

“It isn’t like that, Peter,” he said.

“It’s _exactly_ like that, Tony. I need to go.”

“No. Peter. _Stay_. Please? I don’t want you to leave. Wait until morning. It’s cold out, you’re hurt, and it’s snowing – and it’s dark.”

“We wanna be superheroes _prefer_ the dark,” Peter told him, brushing by his solid form, careful not to hurt him – because now he knew that he _could_. He was strong enough to hurt anyone, really. But he was the one who was aching. So badly that he didn’t think he could breathe. “It hides our secret identities.”

“Peter-“

“Just throw my stuff away,” Peter told him, unable to articulate any further around the lump forming in his throat.

He grabbed his coat from where it was hanging over the chair under Tony’s and walked out the door.

To his credit, he didn’t slam it behind him, but there was a definite finality to the sound when it closed that made Tony’s shoulders slump.


	19. 19

“Peter, it’s me. _Again_. C’mon, please don’t ignore me. I’m sorry. Really. Just… let’s _talk_ about this, okay? Call me back. Or just come by. You don’t even need to call, first, FRIDAY knows to let you in. I… I want to see you. You know, to make sure you’re alright.”

Tony ended the call with a sigh, and tossed his phone to the side, getting restlessly to his feet to walk the living room, ignoring the cheerful fire FRIDAY had started when he’d returned from the tower that afternoon. It had only been three days since Peter had walked out on him, but it felt like a million years. A _lifetime_. The apartment felt echoingly empty, and not even working on his new suit could distract him from how lonely he was without the younger man to talk to, or to hold.

He stopped at the bar and poured himself a drink, watching it swirl in the glass, instead of drinking it down.

_“Steve Rogers is at the door.”_

The billionaire frowned.

“What does he want?”

_“He didn’t tell me.”_

Of course not. Tony hadn’t heard from any of the others in a while; first being distracted by taking care of – and _being with_ – Peter, and then being distracted by _not_ being with Peter, and worrying about him, and wondering what he was doing.

And if he missed Tony as much as Tony missed him.

“Let him in.”

Steve was wearing a heavy coat against the cold outside, but it didn’t do anything to hide how buffed he was. Tony wondered if the man did it on purpose; choosing shirts and other clothing that showed off his muscles. The blonde walked into the apartment, looking around as he did.

“Hey, Tony.”

“Steve. Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Just in the neighborhood and I thought I’d drop by. See how you’re doing – and if you have any plans for tomorrow.”

Tony scowled, feeling a pang go through him. The next day was Thanksgiving, and he’d _had_ hoped to spend it eating Chinese with Peter and spending the day walking in the park hand in hand and then maybe some quiet time on the couch – or in Tony’s bed.

“No.” He was proud of himself for keeping his tone steady, despite his inner turmoil. “Just going to stick around here, I think.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Peter found out who he was and that you hid his identity from him?”

Now the scowl was more annoyed.

“What? How did you know about _Peter_?”

“Natasha. She told me that you somehow managed to catch Spiderman, almost kill him and then somehow convince him to stay with you.”

“I didn’t almost _kill_ him,” Tony said – and now he did take a drink. “He just hit his head.”

“Fell almost two hundred feet. You’re lucky that you _didn’t_ kill him.”

“It was an _accident_. I was just trying to immobilize him so I could talk to him. Learn more about him.”

“To see if he was as shallow as you assumed that he was.”

Tony wasn’t amused – and well aware that he was angry because it was true.

“Yes.”

“And…?”

“And he _isn’t_. He’s just a guy trying to save the world without any backup and very little tech and nothing but some seriously mad skills and a good heart.”

Steve’s expression softened, slightly.

“Tell me you didn’t fall for him?”

“Of course not, Rogers,” the billionaire said, rolling his eyes. “He’s a third my age and a do-gooder. He’s not my type.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” the other man said. “I’d hate to have you crying on my shoulder or something.”

“I’m not going to cry on your shoulder.”

“How are you going to fix things with him?”

Tony sighed.

“I don’t know. He won’t answer my calls – and I’m not going to go charging over there and try to force him to talk to me.”

“Because…?”

“Because he’ll probably just jump out a window or something and escape. I’m counting on him being a better man than I am and eventually sitting down and talking with me.”

Not forgiving him, most likely, but that would be ideal, too.

“Anything I can do?”

“No.” Tony shrugged. “Thank you. It’s my mess to sweep up.”

“Want to come to the compound for dinner, tomorrow?”

“I appreciate the invitation, but no. The snow is supposed to be accumulating, and I think I’m just going to stay home and order take-in, or something.”

Steve nodded, his knowledgeable gaze on Tony.

“You know how to get in touch with me if you want to talk.”

“Thanks.”

Rogers left, then – probably aware that Tony wanted to be alone with his thoughts and willing to allow it. For now, at least.

Tony finished his drink at the bar, and then walked across the living room and looked into the guest room. The maid service people had been in while he’d been out that day, but hadn’t touched the clothing that Peter had brought over and left in the apartment. Things that Tony hadn’t thrown away – and hadn’t even boxed up.

He looked at the bed, which had been made up with clean sheets, and frowned at a different colored cloth sticking out from under the mattress, next to the comforter. The billionaire walked over and leaned down, pulling it out, curiously. And sat down on the bed when he realized what it was.

The Spiderman mask and shirt that he’d taken off Peter the night that he’d first brought him home to take care of him. He’d stashed them under the mattress to keep the doctor from knowing who Peter was. Who knew what the housekeepers had thought when they saw it, but there was no reason to believe they could make any kind of connection between the half outfit and the young man who they’d never seen.

Tony sighed, and brought the fabric up to his face, breathing deeply, and wondering if it was his imagination that he smelled Peter on the cloth. It didn’t matter if it was his imagination, or not. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes, holding the cloth tight as he hugged himself, wishing that it was Peter holding him.

“What do I do…?” he muttered to himself, feeling about as lonely as he could ever remember being.


	20. 20

_“Hey, Peter, it’s me – again. Call me. Please? I just want to know that you’re alright.”_

Peter sighed and shook his head as he deleted the message.

“He doesn’t give up.”

“I thought you blocked him?”

“It’s _Tony Stark_,” Peter pointed out. “You wouldn’t believe the tech he has access to – even from his home.”

“You’re _really_ not going to call him?” Ned asked, looking scandalized.

“No.”

“It’s _Tony Stark_.”

“I _know_, Ned. That doesn’t make it alright what he did.”

Ned had returned from vacation to find his friend a mess and had been aghast to hear that he’d been hurt and hadn’t known who he was – or even who _Ned_ was, when he’d called to check in on him that day. Even more insane when Peter told him the circumstances connected with the injury and who had caused the fall – and _why_.

“He didn’t hurt you on purpose, though, right? I mean, he wasn’t _trying_ to take out Spiderman. He was just trying to keep you from getting away when he ambushed you.”

Peter scowled.

“He could have _called_ or something.”

“Yeah, because Spiderman’s phone number is on google – under _1-800-superhero_.”

“Why are you on his side?”

“I’m not.” Ned shrugged. “I just think that you’re overreacting a little.”

“We _slept_ together, Ned.”

“Which is frakking insane, Peter.” Ned shook his head, wonderingly. He’d heard that part of the story as well, of course. “Tony Stark and _Peter Parker_...”

“Ned…”

“C’mon. It isn’t as if he lied to you to get you into his bed, did he? I mean, he didn’t tell you that the two of you were already lovers or anything, right? Like in _Overboard_?”

“No.”

“There you go.”

“It still wasn’t right.”

“No. Of course he shouldn’t have hurt you. But it was an accident. You said it yourself.”

“I could have _died_. He didn’t know I’d survive that fall.”

“He didn’t _mean_ for you to fall.” Ned rolled his eyes. “You obviously are into him. You should at least hear what he has to say. It’s not like a bunch of other handsome billionaires are beating down your door.”

“Don’t you have a class you’re supposed to be at?” Peter asked, pointedly.

Which made his friend smirk.

“I _do_. Are you going to be alright?”

Peter nodded.

“Yeah. My head doesn’t hurt, now, and my back isn’t as bruised as it was.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Ned told him, all kidding aside. “You could come over, tonight. We can get online and play some WOW. I just downloaded the new retro pack.”

“Nah. Thanks, though. I’m going to do some studying.”

><><><><><><> 

They parted ways and Peter went to his apartment. When he arrived, though, he tossed his books on the coffee table, rather than actually start in on the schoolwork that he wanted to get done that evening.

The young man sighed and looked around before going over to the window. Ned was right about one thing; no one else was beating down his door. Doing what he did – and keeping the secrets that he kept – was even lonelier, now that he’d had a taste of how things _could_ be.

He looked out the window with another sigh, and wondered what Tony was doing. Working in his workroom? Was he at the tower? Or at his apartment? What was he going to have for dinner? Had he spent Thanksgiving with the other avengers rather than with Peter, who had gone to the Chinese restaurant but had taken his own thanksgiving meal to go and had eaten it at home.

Very much alone.

He tucked his lower lip between his teeth but he didn’t pull his phone out of his pocket – even though he suddenly really _really_ wanted to.

Instead, Peter forced himself away from the window and went to work on his biology homework.

><><><><><> 

_“Incoming call from Ned Leeds.”_

Tony frowned, looking up from the display on his desk, even though FRIDAY was all around him and didn’t have an actual point of reference to focus on.

“Who?”

_“Ned Leeds.” _

The display showed the driver’s license photo of a young man who looked somewhat familiar to the billionaire, even though he didn’t know why – and then then he realized that he _did_.

“Connect him.” There was a slight pause. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end of the call sounded uncertain, and hesitant. Not surprising, considering who he was calling.

_“Um… is this Tony Stark?”_

“Speaking.”

_“Hi, Mr. Stark. My name’s Ned. I’m a friend of Peter Parker’s.”_

Tony felt a faint surge of hope. Maybe Peter had _told_ Ned to call him? Why wouldn’t he call him, himself, though? Maybe something had happened to him? Probably not, but Tony hadn’t been stalking – _keeping track of_ – Peter, lately, trying to keep himself busy, instead, and not following him around in the Ironman suit like he had before that disastrous night that Peter had fallen. He still had _FRIDAY_ checking on him, of course, but only indirectly, keeping track of Peter’s coming and goings.

Which was how Tony knew the younger man hadn’t actually been out doing the Spiderman thing since he’d walked out of the apartment – three weeks ago. Of course, his costume was at Tony’s place, so that might have had something to do with it, as well.

“Hello, Ned.” He tried to keep his voice calm, while his insides were churning. “How can I help you?”

_“I’m calling about Peter.”_

“Is he alright?”

_“Yeah. I mean, yeah, he’s not hurt, or anything.”_

“Did he ask you to call me?”

He had to know.

_“Oh. No. He doesn’t know I’m calling.”_

“How did you get this number?”

Tony’s private cell wasn’t listed anywhere – and very few people actually had it.

_“I hacked Peter’s phone the other day,”_ came the surprising admission. “_He’d probably kill me if he knew. Well, not _really_ – he’s my best friend – but he wouldn’t be happy with me.”_

“Is everything okay, Ned?”

_“Not really. I was – shit, I gotta go.”_

The call ended, abruptly, and Tony frowned.

“FRIDAY? Get him back.”

Another pause.

_“No answer – it went to voicemail. Leave a message?”_

Stark scowled, and set his display aside.

“No, I don’t want to leave a message. I’m not checking warranties, now am I? Find out where Ned Leeds is, right now.”

><><><><><> 

Considering the technology of the day, it was surprising just how many people were actually in the library at the college. They had access to the same information at their fingertips just by turning on their phones, after all. Tony looked around, after making sure with FRIDAY that Peter wasn’t in the area (not that he had the younger man tagged with a tracker, of course, but FRIDAY had eyes everywhere, and was able to give him the all clear) and spotted the guy he was looking for sitting alone (luckily) at a table near the back. There were a couple of books, a notebook and a laptop on the table and the boy was so focused on what he was looking at on the laptop that he didn’t look up when Tony slid into the chair across from him.

“Ned?”

“Yeah.” He looked up from what he was doing, and his eyes grew wide when he realized who was sitting across from him. “Fuck me _dead_…”

Despite the reason for finding him, Tony smiled at that. It was always fun to shock people, after all. Well, not _Peter_, but _other_ people.

“I’m Tony Stark.”

He was well aware that he didn’t actually _need_ to introduce himself, but it seemed like the only response that would work for that.

“Yes…” The eyes were still shocked. “How did you find me?”

“I’m _Tony Stark_.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Duh. It was the same argument that Ned had used on Peter, after all. “Sorry about hanging up on you, earlier.”

“Is Peter alright?”

“Oh. He is. I mean, he’s healthy, but I think he misses you.”

Tony felt an ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the arc reactor.

“He does?”

“Well, he hasn’t _admitted_ it, but I know him better than anyone. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“I miss him,” Tony admitted. “But I’ve tried to call him and he isn’t picking up.”

“No. I know. He’s _mad_. At least, he _was_. And hurt.”

“You heard what happened?”

“Yes.”

Tony looked around, just to make sure no one was looking their way. Surprisingly, no one had noticed him, or hadn’t recognized him.

“And you know who he is…?”

“Yeah. I have since we were in high school.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him. To make him fall, I mean.”

“No. I believe you. Why would you? Peter’s a good guy.”

“I didn’t know that, until I had a chance to get to know him,” Tony admitted, desperate enough to get in touch with Peter that he was willing to be completely honest with the one lifeline that he had to him. “But I agree with you. What do I do to fix it? You know him better than I do.”

“I don’t know,” Ned admitted. “You screwed the pooch.”

The billionaire didn’t even scowl; it was the truth and he knew it.

“Think about it, will you?” he asked. “I’m willing to try anything by now.”

He didn’t get up, though, giving Ned a chance to think about it while he looked at the boy’s books, impressed by the titles. Apparently Ned was pretty bright, if his classes were any indication.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” he was asked, suddenly.

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever I need to.”


	21. 21

“This really doesn’t make a lot of sense… you know that, right?”

Ned looked at his friend and smiled, cheerfully, ignoring how depressed he looked – _again_.

“Which part? Going to a Christmas party on Christmas Eve, having a good time with your friends, or eating a lot of free food that just so happens to taste amazing…?”

“_Your _friends,” Peter pointed out.

“If you weren’t always so introverted, they could be _your_ friends, too. Try to have a good time, will you?”

“I was going to go out, tonight. Try out the new suit…”

He didn’t explain any further – he didn’t need to. Ned knew that Peter had no idea where his Spider-Man mask and top had vanished to after Tony Stark knocked him out of the sky that night, and he’d had to remake his web-shooters. Secretly, Peter didn’t mind, because working on that – as well as his schoolwork leading up to Winter break – had given him something to do to keep his mind off how lonely he was.

“It’s _Christmas_, Peter,” Ned told him, slapping his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on. We’ll have some eggnog and find some mistletoe to stand under and wait for the hotties to come kiss us.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but let Ned drag him out of his apartment, and down to the street. He could go out, the next day, after all. It _was_ Christmas, so hopefully things would be pretty tame. Maybe even the bad guys would take a day off – at least for a little while – and give Peter a chance to practice with the new shooters and make sure the fit on the new suit was right.

He was too distracted by the other boy’s enthusiasm to notice the small van that was parked on the street, even though they walked right by it on their way to the subway.

><><><><><>>< 

“You don’t really need to walk me up…”

Peter smiled, shaking his head and putting a supporting hand under his friend’s elbow to keep him steady. Ned had managed to get hold of some spiked eggnog, and his friend was trying very hard to pretend that he was much more sober than he really was.

“I think your mother would kill me if I let you try to get home without some help.”

“I’m good,” Ned assured him. “I’m not nearly as drunk as I was, earlier.”

“It’s alright, Ned,” he told him. “I don’t mind. You’d do it for me.”

“Yeah. But you were supposed to have been home hours ago.”

Peter shrugged.

“I had a good time.”

He did, too, despite his initial misgivings earlier. Ned had been invited to a swanky party at a really nice apartment building, with a rooftop area that was designed for parties like the one they had gone to that evening. He greeted everyone he saw, introduced Peter to all of them as his little brother fresh off the farm – which had made several of the others laugh (since Peter and Ned looked nothing alike) and Peter was three months older than Ned – and had never been on a farm in his life.

There had been a huge Christmas tree with all the trim, lights everywhere and festive music blaring. A table on one side groaned with the weight of countless edible offerings, and on the other side was a bar, complete with two bartenders serving endless drinks. Peter had ignored the drinks, not being old enough to imbibe, but Ned had fallen prey to a prank from some older friends and hadn’t had any such luck.

By the time Peter figured out what was going on – and it had taken a while, since Ned was pretty open and friendly anyway – his friend was half in the bag and Peter decided it was time for them to leave. The good thing about being as strong as he was was that keeping Ned upright was a lot easier than it appeared that it should have been.

He walked his friend to the ground floor and supported him while he waved down a taxi, deciding not to even try to get him home on the subway. Ned had dozed off on the ride – much to the cab driver’s amusement – with his head on Peter’s shoulder, drooling a little with each breath.

He did sober a bit – or at least he seemed to – when Peter woke him to get him out of the cab and out onto the sidewalk in front of his building.

“I’m glad you came,” Ned told him. He looked at his watch, frowning. “Jesus. You need to go.”

“What? Where?”

“Home. Have you seen the time?”

Peter frowned, and guided Ned toward the door, taking his keys and unlocking the security door that guarded the lobby of Ned’s building at night.

“Yes, but I don’t have anything on my schedule, today, until the shelter,” he reminded his friend. “I’ll probably just crash on your couch instead of –“

“No.” Ned lurched toward the elevator. “You _can’t_.”

“What? Why not?”

He’d done it a million times, when they’d stayed up late studying, or playing video games or D&D.

“Because…” Ned hesitated. “Because there’s a mouse living in it, somewhere, and I don’t want you to squish it.”

“Did you call the super?”

“Not yet. I might want to keep it.”

Peter just shook his head, and he opened Ned’s door for him, a firm hand on his elbow keeping him on course – and on his feet.

“It probably has rabies.”

“All the more reason for you to stay off my couch,” Ned told him, reasonably. He took his keys from Peter with a smile of thanks. “I appreciate the assist,” he told him, sincerely. “But go home, will you? I need my beauty sleep.”

“No more drinking, Ned,” Peter told him, looking around the apartment just to make sure there wasn’t anything obvious that his friend could possibly hurt himself with. “You’re a weird drunk.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Peter just shook his head, glanced at the sofa, curiously, and then looked at his friend.

“You good?”

“Yep. I’m going to just go to bed.”

“Call me, tomorrow.”

“Not too early,” came the reply. “I’m going to sleep in. When are you going to the shelter?”

“Noon.”

It was a tradition that he had every year to volunteer at a battered women’s shelter, handing out gifts to the kids that had found themselves in unfamiliar surroundings on Christmas morning and definitely could use a reason to smile. Even better for Peter was the way the women smiled as they watched their children have a chance to play and be kids.

“I’ll meet you there sometime around then.”

Not surprisingly, Ned followed Peter’s lead on that.

“Merry Christmas.”

Ned smiled at him.

“Merry Christmas. Go _home_.”

Peter closed the door behind him, and walked down the stairs to the 1st floor, enjoying how quiet the building was. He wondered what apartments had little kids behind the doors, sleeping but excited to wake up because they just knew Santa Clause was coming. He smiled, thinking about all the times that he and May had put cookies out for Santa, or treats for the reindeer.

They had been truly happy times.

He sighed catching another cab and giving the driver his address and feeling the sting of tears at the reminder of something that he’d never have, again. He was going to be alone. He thought about the dark apartment that waited for him and almost told the driver to turn around; that he’d changed his mind, after all, and that he was going to risk rabies and sleep with the mouse – just to avoid the ache of being alone.

Instead, he wiped his eyes, surreptitiously, and leaned against the window of the cab, watching the cheerful decorations and lights on the buildings as they drove by, wondering what Tony was doing. Probably sleeping off some fancy party, Peter thought, as the driver pulled to a stop in front of his building and Peter paid the man and got out. Or maybe he’d found someone else to spend his time with – and didn’t that thought just hurt so much it made Peter’s eyes water again?

Probably, he was spending the Christmas day with the Avengers. They probably had some kind of traditions, or something. Captain America had been around a long time, after all. He’d probably seen all kinds of things, and knew all the good ways to celebrate.

He walked up the stairs to his apartment and felt a slight tingle in his belly as he unlocked the door. There were times when being hungry was a lot like having those spider senses going off, and Peter shook his head, opening the door. He’d make himself a sandwich, or something, and then go to bed. Ned had been right; it was pretty late.

Then he froze, his hand on the doorknob. His dark apartment was festooned with lights. Christmas lights hanging in intricate patterns. Hanging from the ceiling in sheets of white, blinking just right to make them look like falling snow. He stepped into the apartment, wondering if Ned had done it. There was even a Christmas tree; something that Peter hadn’t done in three years. It was perfectly shaped, perfectly decorated, and there were even presents under it, all wrapped gayly in bright paper and with intricate bows.

He closed the door behind him, still staring, and was suddenly aware of the fact that he wasn’t alone. A motion from the sofa drew his attention, and Tony turned toward him, looking handsome and perfect, with a bright gold bow stuck on the top of his perfect hair. Even in the faint glow from only the hundreds of lights, Peter could see the hesitation in his handsome features. The fear of rejection.

He knew that feeling well.

“Merry Christmas, honey...” Tony murmured, softly.


	22. 22

“Tony…”

He felt his heart skip a beat, his eyes locked on the older man’s, soaking up the image of having him so close after so long away.

It was clear from the way that he was looking at him that Tony felt the same.

“Hello, Peter.”

“What… what are you _doing_ here?”

Tony gave a nervous smile, gesturing at the decorated room.

“What does it look like?” he asked, carefully, unwilling to get himself kicked out before having a chance to make his pitch – but unable to keep from being just a little snarky. “I’m here to try and win you back.”

“With a _Christmas tree_?”

“If it was July, I’d have bought you a firecracker.”

Peter couldn’t suppress the smile, but it was as hesitant as Tony’s.

“How did you get in?”

“Your friend Ned loaned me his key.”

“_Ned_ knows?”

He nodded.

“He helped me, yes.”

Peter walked over, keeping the sofa between himself and the billionaire, almost automatically. The room was so festive. So cheerful. He didn’t feel any of those things, though. He was just filled with uncertainty – and maybe a little spark of hope?

“Why, though? You-“

“Because he’s a smart guy,” Tony interrupted. “He knows that we’re good, together. I know we’re good together. We just need to convince _you_ of that.”

“Tony…”

“Please don’t make me beg,” the older man said, cutting him off. “Because I’m not good at it, but I’m desperate and I’ll do it. If that’s what it takes to get you to forgive me for being stupid and thoughtless.”

“And irresponsible.”

“And _irresponsible_,” he agreed. He went to his knees. “Please, Peter. Please don’t kick me out. Please forgive me and give me another chance. I promise that I’ll never hurt you, again.”

“You couldn’t keep that promise…”

Tony frowned and tilted his head, clearly thinking about that.

“Fair,” he conceded. “I promise to _try_ and never hurt you, again. And to think before I act.”

He watched, frozen, as Peter’s beautiful brown eyes seemed to study his very soul. And then watched as the younger man walked around the couch until he was standing in front of where Tony was still kneeling.

“And not keep secrets.”

“And never keep secrets. Not from you. I need you.”

Peter plucked the bow from Tony’s hair.

“You’re my present?” he asked, brushing his fingers through the thick dark locks.

“And your _future_, I hope. If you’ll have me.”

The boy knelt down, as well, eyes filling with tears.

“I missed you.”

With a dismayed noise, Tony pulled him into his embrace, holding him tightly and tucking his head under his chin.

“Oh, honey, I missed you, too. So much. I’m so sorry, Peter... Please…”

Peter’s arms went around him and he clung to Tony as he sobbed, his face pressed against the other man’s neck, smearing him with tears.

“Tony…”

He’d thought that he was coming home to an empty apartment and a lonely night, and Tony had changed all of that with a simple (and amazing) gesture. He didn’t have to be alone, now. Not today. Not tomorrow.

“Shh… I’ve got you, honey.” He shifted, not letting go of his prize, until he was sitting on his rear rather than his knees, and pulled Peter into his lap, completely, rocking him gently as he held him. “Oh, Peter. Thank you.”

“I missed you,” Peter whispered from somewhere near his jaw.

“I was empty without you,” Tony assured him. He held him, close. “You were supposed to be home hours ago. I thought maybe you found out what was happening and were avoiding me.”

Peter sniffed, and then chuckled.

“Ned got drunk, accidentally, and I had to take him home first.”

“Accidentally?”

“Spiked eggnog.”

Tony shook his head, pulling back, now, so he could look at the younger man. Peter’s cheeks were splotchy from crying and his eyes were liquid and red, but he was beautiful. He smiled, brushing his thumb along the boy’s cheek to wipe away the tears that were smeared there.

“Can I kiss you?”

He wasn’t going to presume anything, just then, but he wanted to feel those soft lips against his own. Wanted to remind himself of the tenderness that came with that intimate contact.

“Yes.”

With Peter still in his lap, Tony took his face in his hands and turned his head a little, pressing a kiss first against Peter’s forehead, then another against his temple, then soft butterfly kisses along his cheek and his nose before finally, carefully, claiming his lips with the gentlest of caresses. The tip of his tongue brushed Peter’s lower lip, retreating before the younger man could respond one way or the other, and then he smiled when he felt Peter’s tongue slide along his own lip just as fleetingly.

He pulled away, his eyes searching Peter’s for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty, but all he saw was happiness. An echo of his own – and the relief that he was feeling.

“I thought I’d lost you,” the billionaire said, and now his own eyes were stinging with unshed tears. “I’ve never felt so alone. So _empty_.”

It was Peter’s turn to comfort, and he pulled Tony’s head to his shoulder, threading his fingers through his hair, crooning soothing noises to him while Tony held onto him, feeling the strength in those slim arms and that slight body.

They were quiet for a long time, simply holding the other and feeling the joy of having someone to hold onto. Tony was beginning to think that Peter had drifted off, when the young man finally spoke.

“You did all this decorating yourself?”

“It’s a real tree, too,” Tony confirmed. “I didn’t cut it down, though.” He lifted his head to look around the apartment. “It’s been a long time since I decorated a tree – or hung lights.”

“I don’t see any stockings.”

“You don’t have a chimney.”

Besides, he hadn’t wanted to presume. Stockings were for Christmas morning, and as much as he’d hoped that he’d still be there when dawn came, he honestly hadn’t been sure of the reception that he was going to get – even with Ned’s help.

“True.”

“We could go get a couple if you want. Load them up with candy, and fruit and nuts and little presents.”

Peter smiled.

“At three am?”

“It’s that or go Ironman and track Santa down and see what he has.”

“I don’t need a stocking.” Peter climbed out of Tony’s lap, realizing that the position couldn’t be that comfortable. He reached a hand down to him, silently offering to help him up. “Sit on the couch with me?”

Tony let him pull him to his feet.

“An offer I wouldn’t dream of refusing, honey.”

They sat down, with Peter nestled right up against Tony’s side and the older man’s arm going around him, automatically.

“How long are you going to be here?” Peter asked him, bringing his cheek to rest on Tony’s shoulder but looking at the tree and the presents under it.

“Until you tell me to go home.”

“I have to be somewhere at noon, but until then I’m free.”

“The women’s shelter?”

“You know about it?”

“Ned told me.” Another indication of just how wrong he’d been about Peter. Well, about *Spiderman*, but it had been the same thing. Peter really was a good guy. “Can I come with you?”

Peter turned his head without lifting it from the shoulder he was resting it on.

“To the women’s shelter?”

“Yes. Would they be uncomfortable?”

He was a man, after all, and they were battered women, from what he understood from Ned. But Peter and Ned were guys, too, and they were going.

“No. I think they’d be fine. But you understand that many of them have kids that are going to be there, too. Little kids. Hyped up on sugar and the excitement of Christmas day. It’s not going to be peaceful.”

“I’d still like to come.”

“They’re going to recognize you.”

“I’m fine with that.” He smiled, and kissed Peter’s temple. “It’ll be good for my public image – to be seen with little kids. C’mon, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Stocks will skyrocket and I’ll come off looking like a saint.”

“Saint Tony?”

Peter wasn’t fooled. He knew that Tony wasn’t worried about his stocks, or his public image, really. It made him smile, because that meant that he just wanted to spend time with him.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far…” He shifted, just a little, moving Peter beside him so that the boy could be more comfortable – and not coincidently allow him to hold him with both arms, now. “Can I go?”

“Yeah. I mean, of course you can. It’ll be a lot of fun for the kids – which means the moms will be happy, too.”

Tony sighed, softly, and buried his face in Peter’s hair.

“Have I mentioned how happy I am, right now?”

“I am, too.”

“Yeah?”

Peter chuckled and turned back to the decorations.

“The tree is pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

“I got you presents.”

Peter had assumed they were empty boxes wrapped up to look like presents. He frowned.

“You didn’t need to.”

“I know. I wanted to, though. Luckily, I had help from Ned, because otherwise it would all be socks and underwear.”

“Those are all for me?”

There had to be a dozen packages under the tree, of varying shapes and sizes.

“Yes. Next year there’ll be a million of them. And the tree will be even more spectacular.”

Peter shook his head.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“At the risk of sounding sappy,” Tony told him, running his hand along his back in a caress that made Peter shiver. “You did. The best present, ever. I’m sitting here, right?”

He smiled when the boy blushed, looking pleased.

“That’s not the same.”

“No. It’s better.” He kissed Peter’s temple, again, and held his face against the boy’s porcelain cheek for a moment. “You should go to bed,” he said. “If you’re going to be bright-eyed and bushy tailed for your day.”

Peter nodded, but he didn’t get up – and wasn’t in any hurry to do so.

“Are you going to join me?”

And now it was Tony who trembled.

“Yes.”


	23. 23

Ned was waiting at the door of the shelter when Tony’s expensive sportscar pulled up in front of the building. The boy smiled, still showing the thrill that went through him at the sight of _Tony Stark_. Not surprisingly, since he and Peter had been fanboys since they were young. It was even more amazing to see that Peter was sitting in the car with Tony when it stopped.

Ned stepped up to Peter’s door when Tony turned off the engine.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, looking smug and especially pleased with himself.

Peter’s echoing smile was more than a little cheerful as he opened his door, getting out of the car.

“Merry Christmas. How’s your head?”

Ned rolled his eyes.

“It was killing me when I woke up, but it’s okay, now.” He glanced at Tony, who was out of the car, but was looking at the road behind them. “It worked?”

His friend nodded, looking just a little awed – although his smile was genuine.

“Yeah. Thank you for the assist.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad it worked.”

“So am I.”

“I get to come to the wedding, right?”

Peter blushed and smiled.

“You’re a little ahead of us,” he told his friend.

“Don’t listen to him, Ned,” Tony said, proving that he’d been listening. “You can be his best man.”

Ned grinned at that, pleased to see just how happy and relaxed Peter was – and even though he didn’t know Tony well, he thought the billionaire seemed more at ease, as well.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“You do that.” Tony scowled and looked at his watch and then at Peter. “They’re _late_.”

“It isn’t noon, yet.”

Peter wasn’t worried, and his easy manner relaxed the older man, as well. He still didn’t – _technically_ – know what the surprise was, but Tony was giving himself away in a million different mannerisms and Peter couldn’t wait to see how he looked when the event happened. Even dressed in the same clothes that he’d worn the day before – luckily they were relaxed and casual; jeans, a t-shirt and a sweatshirt over it and under his coat – he was still downright happy.

It didn’t hurt that the two of them had spent all morning together. It began when Peter had led Tony into his bedroom, pointing out as he changed into sweats to sleep in that he didn’t have any clothes for Tony that would fit him. The older man hadn’t minded, stating that he’d sleep in his boxers, no problem.

Neither of them was shy about sliding under Peter’s blankets, then, and the boy had gone easily into Tony’s embrace, clearly wanting to be held. Which was fine with Tony, too, who gathered him into his arms and held him close.

“FRIDAY has your blood test results,” he'd told Peter, enjoying being close to him, but certain that they weren’t quite ready for anything too intimate, yet. “You’ll be happy to know that you’re _not_ an alien.”

_He_ had certainly been glad to hear it.

Peter nodded. He wasn’t too surprised by that. He _felt_ like he was human, after all.

“Was there anything interesting?”

“Spider DNA mixed with your own.”

“Really? It must _have_ been a spider, then…”

“What do you mean?”

With his head tucked right up against Tony’s chest, Peter told him about the bite in the radiation lab so long ago, and the resulting illness – and then the onset of the powers that he now had. Tony listened with interest – remembering what he’d read in the boy’s history about going to the doctor but never returning.

Now he knew why.

“I thought it might have been some kind of spider,” Peter said, when he finished the narration. “But I killed it, and it was just a speck of black when I flicked it off my neck.”

“So what other abilities do you have?” Tony asked, curiously. “Besides being strong and durable.”

“I can walk up walls and stick to things. I have pretty good night vision. And sometimes I feel things before they happen. But it’s not something that I’ve had a lot of chance to work on developing, so I don’t rely on it.”

It might have warned him what was coming with Tony ambushing him if he’d refined the ability, after all.

“That’s amazing,” Tony said, nuzzling the younger man’s neck, careful not to leave a mark until he and Peter had a chance to discuss that sort of thing. “_You’re_ amazing.”

Which had made Peter smile.

They’d fallen silent, then, but it was comfortable and the two simply enjoyed the company of the other until they’d drifted off to sleep.

Morning had found them still entangled in each other’s arms and there had been some mutual complimenting and light petting while they got dressed. Tony had then dragged Peter out to the living room and had sat down on the sofa and watched as he opened the presents that Tony had put under his tree.

“Ned helped you pick this stuff out?” he confirmed, opening a box that proved to be an expensive new wristwatch.

“He told me what you liked, and what you didn’t have, and I ran with it.”

“No wears a wristwatch…” Peter pointed out, strapping it on his wrist and smiling. It was beautiful, and nothing that he ever would have purchased for himself, even if he wasn’t as frugal as he was. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Tony’s smiled was pleased.

“I’m glad you like it.”

By the time Peter was done opening the presents, the new watch had been joined by a video console (Peter had a feeling Ned had told Tony to buy one only because Ned was looking forward to playing it) with several games, a video streaming device, several Lego sets and a year subscription to maid service.

Peter had simply shaken his head, unaccustomed to such largess but knowing that telling Tony he didn’t have to buy him anything to make him happy would be a waste of breath. Tony almost certainly would just remind Peter that he had a lot of money and not a lot of people he wanted to spend it on. The younger man would have to find something that Tony loved and see if there was some kind of present that he could give him.

Maybe for his birthday – or Valentines Day.

What he gave him that morning, instead, was a score of gentle kisses and a morning spent cuddling on the couch talking and just being together, enjoying the holiday in a way neither had dreamed would happen. Then Tony had pulled out one more surprise and told Peter that he was cooking something up for the people at the shelter they were going to spend the afternoon at and then refused to tell the boy what it was. Only that it was going to be a surprise – and he thought that it would be fun.

Peter had simply rolled his eyes and allowed Tony his surprise. It wasn’t the same as keeping a secret, after all, and knowing Tony, he had an idea what it was, but wouldn’t ruin his anticipation by being assertive and demanding that he tell him. He’d kissed him, again, and asked him what he wanted for breakfast.

><><><><><> 

Before Ned could ask what Tony meant, a small box truck came around the corner and pulled to a stop behind Tony’s car. The decal on the truck didn’t carry any indication of who they were, other than it was a rental truck, and the three men who got out were simply dressed in regular winter clothing.

The three walked up to Tony, who shook hands with them and gestured for them to get back in the truck for now. Then he walked over to stand beside Ned and put his hand on the small of Peter’s back, casually.

“Are we ready?”

Peter smiled.

“Yes.”


	24. 24

“He really looks like he’s having a good time, doesn’t he?”

Peter looked over to the other side of the living room and smiled. Tony’s presence had been greeted with amazed shouts of excitement from the fourteen children of various ages that were living in the shelter with their mothers, and it hadn’t taken long before he found himself overrun by humans that were all half his size or smaller.

After the initial wave of delight, there had been a chance for him to pull away and greet the women, who were all subjected to his most charming smile and those brown eyes of his were warm and interested as he was introduced to them. Then he gestured to the men that had entered the room with him, Peter and Ned, and as the staff, the women and children and the volunteers all watched, the Christmas tree (which had been gaily decorated but was no devoid of presents with only shredded wrapping paper littering the base) was suddenly once more packed with tastefully wrapped presents of all sizes and shapes.

They were greeted with almost as much excitement as Tony had been and the mothers, the staff at the shelter and the volunteers all had their hands filled making sure the presents were distributed to the right child based on the age written on the tag. The air was literally filled with bits of wrapping paper, ribbons, bows and happy shouts, and Tony stood beside Peter, leaning against a wall and watching the kids open the presents.

Then, while the children ran off to the main rec room to play with their new prizes, Tony reached into his coat pocket and pulled out envelopes, handing one to each woman, and then another to the director of the shelter.

Peter had a chance to glance at one before the women began hugging him, now as excited as their children had been.

“What are they?” Ned asked Peter, quietly, as the director put her hand over her breast, looking at the check she was now holding with wide eyes.

“The women got gift cards,” Peter told him, moving a little to avoid a radio-controlled car that came screaming into the room, followed by a young girl who was grinning, happily. “Spa day at some swanky place I’ve never heard of – but Tony’s been once a week – shopping spree at a clothing store and a thousand-dollar gift card for the mall.”

He knew because Tony had asked him if he thought they’d be appreciated, or if they would just think it was charity and be offended. Peter had been looking forward to seeing the reactions and had approved whole-heartedly of the gifts.

“And Donna?” Ned asked, looking at the director, who was now hugging Tony, as well.

“A fat check to support the place for the next year.”

Ned smiled.

“That’s awesome.”

“Yeah.”

Once the initial shock had worn off, the kids returned, now, and were back to hanging out with Tony, getting pictures with him, climbing into his lap once he’d settled on the couch, and then begging to see the Ironman suit. Tony had glanced at the mothers for permission and had activated the right hand and arm, much to the excitement of the kids.

And most of the adults.

Peter nodded his agreement, feeling pretty happy and enjoying himself, as well. Not only watching the activities, but admiring Tony from the distance between them, and feeling a thrill go through him that had nothing to do with the Ironman suit.

“He is. They are, too.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing with the rest of your day?”

“Dinner with family. You’re invited.”

Peter knew that he was. He was always invited to family get togethers like that. He shook his head, though.

“I’m going to pass. I want to spend some time with Tony.”

“Oooooo.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Grow up, Ned, or I’ll tell your mom that you got drunk last night.”

“_Accidentally_ drunk,” he reminded him. “That doesn’t count.”

“The videos say otherwise.”

“You have video?”

Peter smirked.

“Of course.”

“Fine. Spend the day with Tony Stark. See if I care.”

They both watched as Tony interacted with the kids for a few more minutes, clearly ready to start the process of saying goodbye to them and the others. Peter and Ned did the same, and soon the three of them were standing out in front of the shelter, once more.

“Do you need a ride, Ned?” Tony offered.

“I wish I did,” Ned told him, grinning. “Do you have any idea how much cred I would gain if you dropped me off at my folks’ place? I already made arrangements for my cousin to pick me up, here. Thanks, though.”

“Next time,” the older man said.

“Yeah.”

“Ready, honey?”

Peter smiled at that, and the way Ned’s eyes gleamed, cheerfully, at hearing the endearment.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. Merry Christmas.”

“You, too.”

He got into Tony’s car just as Ned’s cousin pulled up, guaranteeing that his friend wasn’t going to be stuck standing on the side of the road waiting for his ride to come, and Tony started the engine.

“I had a good time.”

“Surprised?” Peter asked, reaching over and resting his hand on Tony’s thigh.

“A little, yes. I’m good at showing off, but not great with kids.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I was talking to Donna about maybe organizing a sledding trip for them, next month. What do you think?”

“I think it’d be nice.”

Fourteen kids of various ages on a snowy hill somewhere? What could possibly go wrong? Tony put the car into gear and then brushed his hand against Peter’s, briefly, before shifting, again.

“Did you have anything planned for the rest of the day?”

“I was hoping you’d want to spend it with me.”

Which made the billionaire smile, even though he didn’t turn his attention from the traffic around them. He caught Peter’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss against his palm.

“Sounds good. Can we go to my place, first, so I can change?”

“Whatever you want to do,” Peter told him. “I monopolized the afternoon. We can do whatever – wherever – this evening.”

“In that case, how about I make you dinner and we spend the evening watching old Christmas movies?”

It made Peter smile because he knew that Tony wasn’t the movie buff that he was – and certainly wasn’t that eager to watch Miracle on 34th street – but he was willing and Peter appreciated it.

“Sounds good.”

><><><><><<><> 

The apartment was just as luxurious as Peter remembered it being. There weren’t any Christmas decorations there, but the fireplace came on when they walked in, and FRIDAY spoke up before the door was even closed behind them.

_“Hello, Peter. Welcome back.”_

The young man smiled, delighted.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.”

“I think she has a crush on you,” Tony said, smiling as he took his coat off and then helped Peter sluff his as well, and hung them both up. “She’s been talking about you nonstop, lately.”

“Yeah?”

Tony winked.

“Oh; wait. That was _me_.”

Peter laughed and stepped into the older man’s arms, pressing his face against his chest and wrapping his arms around him.

“Are you hungry, now?” he asked, his voice muffled. “Or can we eat, later?”

Tony’s fingers caressed the back of his neck, his lips brushing Peter’s ear.

“We can do anything you want, honey.”

“Oh?” Peter slid his hand down Tony’s side, his fingers finding the curve of the older man’s rear and his hand cupping his ass through his jeans. “Anything?”

“Yes.”

If Tony’s voice cracked on that single word, it might have had something to do with Peter suddenly pressing himself into Tony’s pelvis, just then, allowing the older man to feel his growing excitement.

“Let’s go to the couch,” he whispered.

Tony’s arms tightened on the boy and his reply was to simply walk backward, not allowing any diminishing of the contact between the two as he guided Peter to the sofa and then pulled him down with him. Peter slid his hand to the button on Tony’s jeans, nimbly undoing it and then pulling the zipper down, the palm of his hand cupping the bulge, lightly.

“Peter…”

Tony felt his cock twitched, excitedly, and tried to shift the younger man on top of him so that he could kiss him. Instead, Peter slid off his sofa, hands taking hold of a couple of Tony’s beltloops.

“Raise up.”

The billionaire did as he was told and watched Peter’s eyes as the boy pulled his jeans and boxers down. Then he knelt next to him and took his shoes and socks off, allowing him to slip the pants off. Peter then helped Tony out of his shirt, leaving the man naked and shivering with anticipation in the light of the fireplace.

“You, too…” Tony whispered, his hand sliding down to his cock, stroking it, eagerly. “I want to see your body, honey.”

“In a minute.” He nudged Tony’s knees apart and knelt between them, scooting himself close, but reaching for Tony’s hips and pulling him to the edge of the sofa. “I have other plans, first.”

Then he bent his head and took the head of Tony’s cock into his mouth.

“Oh… Jesus…” Tony had missed this. Had missed Peter’s sensuality and definitely missed the physical intimacy. More than he’d missed having the intelligent conversations that Peter was capable of having with him? At the moment, the throbbing organ that was being sucked and stroked so wonderfully was definitely saying yes. “That’s so hot, baby…” he crooned, threading his fingers through Peter’s curls.

Peter gave a muffled chuckle and redoubled his efforts. There was no slowing as he stroked whatever part of Tony’s cock that he wasn’t sucking on, and even better – as far as Tony was concerned – he’d occasionally release it and bear all the way down on him, taking him into his throat and holding the position for a long count before being forced to pull off to breathe.

Only to slurp his way back along that hard shaft.

Not surprisingly considering how long it’d been – and just how fucking sexy it was to watch Peter go down on him – Tony found himself building to climax ridiculously fast. He started to push him back, to allow himself a little more time, but Peter clearly wasn’t having any of that. The swollen lips tightened around the head of Tony’s cock and Peter blindly reached up and pressed the flat of his hand against Tony’s chest.

Tony didn’t argue. He leaned back, closed his eyes and gave himself up to the pleasure that was rushing through him, culminating at his groin.

Peter’s other hand found Tony’s balls, rolling them in his fingers in time to his ministrations, and making a pleased noise when a soft whimper escaped the older man’s lips.

“Please, Peter…” Tony moaned, his hips beginning to buck, gently at first and then more. “Please don’t stop.”

That was clearly not his intention. The younger man swallowed Tony’s cock, again, and held in place while Tony fucked his mouth with the almost desperate motions. Just as he was running out of breath, he felt Tony’s cock spasm, his balls tighten, and the first spurts of hot cum being fed to him. The older man’s fingers were grasping Peter’s curls, now, holding him in place as he fed him more with each jerk of his hips until there wasn’t anything left in him.

Only then did Peter pull back, never actually being forced by the firm grip. He smiled up at Tony and kissed the head of his cock before he moved up into his lap, now, and hugged him close.

“I missed you.”

Tony groaned, feeling himself already twitching, again, at the sensation of having Peter’s firm, young, body pressed so closely against him.

“I missed you, too,” he assured him, nuzzling his lips against Peter’s neck. “Get naked, Peter. It’s my turn.”


	25. 25

Peter didn’t hesitate to comply; kicking off his shoes without getting out of the billionaire’s lap and watching Tony watch him pull his shirt off over his head. Tony ran his hand along Peter’s firm abdomen, fingers caressing each individual muscle and sliding up to palm a nipple.

“Yes…” Peter arched into the touch, his eyes closing, then, and a hand going to Tony’s shoulder for support.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, honey,” Tony promised him, bringing his arms around Peter and holding him close, his lips finding the junction between Peter’s neck and shoulder.

“That feels good,” he replied, shivering.

Tony chuckled, and with his arms still around him, he got to his feet, pulling Peter up with him.

“Let’s move this someplace where I have more room to work.”

He kept his arm around Peter’s waist as he led him into his bedroom, and then he turned the boy towards him, kissing him, softly, as he reached for Peter’s jeans. Within moments, Peter was as naked as Tony, and his erection proof that he was just as willing and eager.

Tony gently pushed him backwards onto the bed and followed, making an approving noise when Peter opened his legs, automatically, to allow him between them. Opening himself for whatever Tony wanted from him.

“So beautiful,” the older man murmured, appreciatively, his lips catching Peter’s in another heated kiss before moving himself a little lower and spending time giving each nipple plenty of individual attention. “So perfect.”

Because Tony had already climaxed, he wasn’t feeling the overwhelming need to just open Peter up and slide into him and claim his ass as his own, once more. Instead, he was able to take his time with the boy, peppering his body with kisses and caresses as he made his way lower. Along his chest, then his belly, to his pelvis and finally – just when Peter was moaning anxiously – he ran the flat of his tongue along the boy’s cock, lapping up precum and enjoying the way Peter squirmed and writhed under him.

“Please, Tony… right there. Yes…”

“Shhh, honey… we’re getting there…”

Peter groaned with impatience, arching against him, but fingers clutching the bedspread rather than clinging to the older man. His groan was cut off with a gasp when Tony’s mouth finally took him in and he found his cock buried in the man’s throat with a single smooth motion.

Tony reveled in the pleasure that he was giving Peter and doubled his efforts, enjoying the way Peter responded as he deepthroated him, pulled back and took him in, once more. It was only a matter of minutes before such treatment had its desired effect and with only a soft cry of warning, Peter unloaded into Tony’s mouth with a shudder that seemed certain to pull him apart.

The older man gave him only a short time to catch his breath before he moved on him, again. This time Tony took a pillow and put it under Peter’s lower back, giving him perfect access to the boy’s ass, even from above. He kissed Peter’s aching balls, his tongue rolling one and then the other before moving to slide along his crack until he found his tight hole.

“Oh!”

Peter rocked backward, and if he could have spread his legs wider, he would have just to allow Tony to keep doing what he was doing. The older man made an approving noise but didn’t say anything as he fucked Peter’s ass with his tongue, first, and then brought his hand up, as well, sliding a finger into the saliva slick hole and preparing him for what was to come. (or cum, he thought to himself, feeling a little juvenile for almost giggling at the pun).

A lot of spit and a few tugs on his now throbbing cock and Tony was ready to mount him. Peter whimpered with want as Tony moved up on him, one hand bracing his body above him, the other guiding the head of his cock to where they both wanted him, most. Peter groaned as Tony claimed him, the older man’s mouth catching the sound when he kissed him, forcing himself deep, until he was completely embedded inside his lover’s willing body.

“I love you, Peter Parker,” Tony murmured, peppering his cheek with kisses before burying his face back into that space between his shoulder and neck. A place that he loved. It was a perfect fit for him, just like Peter, himself, was. “You’re incredible.”

Peter made another approving noise and Tony began to work him, his hips shifting to pull out of the boy, only to push back in, in a steady rhythm that was slow enough to start that Peter could catch it, and then increased as their ardor rose. Tony felt his legs wrap around him, holding him in place, now, and his heels digging into his lower back as Peter rose up to meet each thrust as well as he could. The boy’s cock was leaving Tony’s belly slick with the evidence of his own enjoyment but the older man was only somewhat aware of that, lost as he was in their loving, just then.

He felt Peter tense under him and heard his somewhat muffled cry of pleasure, felt the hard rod of flesh against his belly spasm, and then felt Peter’s entire body cling to him as the boy climaxed, again. It only encouraged Tony to increase his own efforts and it didn’t take long before the billionaire was grinding hard, his cock exploding inside Peter.

They were still for a long moment; Tony collapsed onto Peter, who was taking his heavier weight without issue as they caught their breath. He nuzzled the younger man’s neck, lovingly, and then lifted up enough to look down at him.

“You okay?”

Peter smiled, face red and sheened with perspiration from their loving, but his eyes lit up with satisfaction and happiness.

“Yeah. You?”

“Never better, honey,” Tony told him, truthfully. He looked down between them, watching with satisfaction as he pulled out of Peter, a trickle of his cum drooling from the head of his rapidly softening cock. “You’re so exciting.”

“You are, too, Tony,” Peter assured him, allowing the billionaire to bring him to his feet long enough to pull the bedding back and get Peter under the blankets before gathering him back into his arms for some serious post-coital cuddling. “That was good. It felt good.”

“Yes, it did.” He kissed him, and then licked a bead of sweat from Peter’s upper lip. “We’re official, now, right?” he asked.

Peter frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Maybe he was just still on his high from the amazing sex, but Peter thought that Tony suddenly looked hesitant.

“I mean… this isn’t just a one and done thing, is it?” the billionaire clarified. “You’re not a one-night stand kind of guy, right?”

“I’m not. You?”

He asked because he knew that Tony _was_. Or, at least had been, and he had to be sure.

“Not with you, honey.” The grip on his lithe body tightened and his mouth went to Peter’s jaw, licking and kissing him. “I want you with me, Peter. Either you move in with me, or I’ll move in with you – whatever you want.”

“You’d live with me?”

“We’ll have to bring FRIDAY,” Tony added, smiling. “I need her, too, but yes – wherever you’re most comfortable. Think about it, alright?” He kissed him, again. “I don’t need an answer, right away.”

Peter smiled, too.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Tony slid his hand along Peter’s hip. “I’m a pretty useful guy, you know? Not that I’m trying to sell you on staying with me, but I’m pretty handy. And I can cook. I also happen to be incredibly resourceful – and did I mention that I’m rich?”

“I said I’d think about it,” Peter told him, amused.

Tony rolled over on top of him, getting between Peter’s legs, feeling a thrill of pleasure at how readily the younger man opened them for him.

“I could help you be Spiderman, too,” he added, grinding himself playfully against him. “I know some other superheroes, you know… they might be able to come up with a tip or two on how to keep yourself out of trouble.”

“Not you?”

“I’m not very good at staying out of trouble,” Tony pointed out. “Maybe you could help me with that one.”

“Maybe.” Peter smiled up at him. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.”

“While I’m thinking about it,” Peter said, reaching down between them, running his fingers along Tony’s belly. The older man was probably done for a while, but Peter was young and had a libido to match. “Why don’t you put your mouth to good use, again? Please?”

Tony chuckled.

“I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this would have been up much sooner, but the site wasn't working for me


	26. Epilogue

“How do I look?”

“Amazing. I think you should have gotten a haircut, though. Get rid of those curls before the big day.”

Peter smiled.

“Tony _likes_ it curly. I threatened to cut them off and he almost cried.”

“You spoil him,” Ned chided.

“Sometimes.” Peter’s eyes were bright and cheerful. “He’s worth it, though.”

“Because he made you the new Spiderman suit?”

“Because he’s _amazing_ in bed.”

“Jesus, Peter,” Ned laughed at his friend. “Don’t say that where my mother can hear you, okay? She already thinks that you’re rushing things – and that you’re too young to make such a commitment.”

“It’s been a year,” Peter pointed out.

“I didn’t say _I_ thought you were rushing it.”

They hadn’t, either, as far as Ned was concerned.

Peter’s friend had watched with a proprietary interest as Peter and Tony had begun their tentative relationship soon after Christmas. Peter had moved in with Tony, telling Ned that the billionaire’s apartment was bigger, more luxurious and by having him move in there it saved Tony the trouble of figuring out how to integrate FRIDAY into the smaller apartment.

Not to mention, Tony _owned_ his apartment, and that meant that Peter could hang a picture anywhere he wanted, anytime he wanted.

Then, under Ned’s watchful eye (although he was the only one who thought of it that way) Tony had slowly and steadily introduced Peter to the life of being a full-fledged superhero. Starting with meeting the Avengers, themselves. To make it easier on Peter, the billionaire had simply held a party at the apartment – and not only the Avengers were invited, but _Ned_ had been invited, as well.

It had been a fanboy’s dream, of course.

Ned had met all of them; the Avengers as well as several SHIELD agents. They had been just as interested in Peter as the boy had been in them, of course. They all knew who he was by then – the Avengers didn’t have a lot of secrets from each other, after all – and they all knew that Tony was hooked on the much younger man.

He certainly hadn’t hid that affection that night; his arm was almost always around Peter’s waist whenever they were near each other during the party, and Tony had never been shy about public displays of affection – he certainly wasn’t holding back in a _private_ party. Much to Ned’s amusement, since _Peter_ wasn’t as open about such things.

That was going to have to be something he became used to, though, Natasha Romanoff had pointed out, because Tony had already told them that he was looking forward to showing his new love off to the world.

That had been fun to watch, really. Tony’s vibrant personality and Peter’s much more reserved one had definitely clashed, but for the most part it was all to the good. Peter’s common sense and unwillingness to allow Tony to spiral out of control physically, emotionally or any other way reined Ironman in completely. Tony had someone to come home to each night, and he was thriving under that domesticity – which had even him baffled. Tony’s outgoing nature had brought Peter out of his shell a little, and the young man who had always been so serious and introverted now found himself going to parties (although he still wasn’t old enough to drink and constantly reminded Tony of that limitation) and actually smiling a lot more than he had.

And Tony had added his tech to the Spiderman suit, making the thing safer for Peter - and that made Tony feel better about the love of his life risking himself working alone on the mean streets of Queens. Or _above_ them, for the most part. The Avengers knew what Peter's skills were, now, and were slowly figuring out ways to have him be included in their missions, but for the most part, Spiderman was a one person gig, and the crimes that he stopped were small time enough that Peter never really found himself in the same jeopardy that the Avengers did, so often.

It was another way for him to spend quality time with Tony, though.

Everything culminated on Tony’s birthday. He’d told Peter months in advance that all he wanted for his birthday was Peter. Home. Covered in some kind of paper with a bow so that Tony could spend the evening unwrapping him and then playing with him, like all good presents. Peter had smiled, indulgently, and had come up with a counter to that. When Tony had returned from the tower that evening, ready to spend the night just him and Peter, he’d found dinner waiting and Peter holding a ring and then dropping to one knee.

Tony had wanted to elope right then and there. Peter had refused. He wanted a wedding. A lot of friends and a Christmas day that they’d never forget. With just a few months to prepare, the event of the century was planned for a small church with a very restricted guestlist; although Peter had been told that he could invite anyone that he wanted to, Tony’s list had been almost exclusively Avengers and a few people who had stuck with him through the years and were going to have to be there, Tony said, or they’d never believe it had actually happened.

><><><><><>> 

“I’ll try to curb my enthusiasm,” Peter promised his friend. He looked down at the tuxedoes they were wearing. “I guess I look presentable.”

“You look perfect. Not that it matters,” Ned told him, smirking. “Everyone’s going to be looking at _me_, anyway. It’s called _best man_ for a reason, after all.”

The music outside the dressing room changed, and Peter took a deep breath.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said to himself. “Don’t be nervous.”

Ned laughed.

“Don’t be nervous,” he agreed. “And don’t make me come looking for you. I’ll send _Natasha_.”

Which made Peter smile.

“I’m fine. Go ahead and get in your spot.”

Breaking a few of the normal marriage traditions, he and Tony were going to walk down the aisle together, rather than having one waiting for the other with Steve and Ned.

“It’s the room with all the flowers and people,” Ned told him.

“Smart ass.”

Ned left and Peter turned to the mirror, double checking the bowtie that he was wearing to make sure it wasn’t crooked. In the reflection, he saw the door open, and felt his heart pound a little faster when Tony walked in and closed it behind him.

The billionaire was dressed in a matching tuxedo, looking amazing with his fresh haircut and his perfectly tailored suit. He smiled, though, as he caught Peter’s reflection, walking up behind his lover and wrapping his arms around him from behind and pressing his lips lightly against Peter’s ear.

“You look _delicious_.”

Peter felt himself blushing, in pleasure and in reaction to the desire that he saw in Tony’s expression. He reached back, brushing his palm against Tony’s cheek, caressing him.

“I’m glad you think so, because you’re going to be eating me, tonight.”

The older man slid his hands down Peter’s sides, and his big palms met at the boy’s groin where he unashamedly groped him all the while lightly kissing his neck and jaw. Peter was breathless in only minutes and his erection was almost painful.

“I want to eat you _right now_,” Tony told him, running his hand along the outline of the arousal straining Peter’s pants. “Think they’d mind waiting?”

“I can wait,” Peter told him, pleased at the teasing – although he knew that if he’d encouraged him, Tony would have dropped to his knees right there and sucked Peter off. And probably would have done it _again_, just because he enjoyed watching Peter enjoy his attention. “But not for too long.”

“Only until I get you alone, tonight,” Tony promised, letting him go and turning him to hug him, but not grinding against him to allow Peter a chance to soften a little, first. “Then all bets are off.”

Peter rested his cheek against Tony’s shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Peter. Merry Christmas.”

“The best one, ever.”

Which made Tony smile, and move just enough to allow him to kiss the tip of Peter’s perfect nose.

“Wait until you see what I have planned for next year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it! Thanks so much for indulging me my little story and for reading it and taking time to comment, even. They're fun to write  
If you care to join my fledgling patreon and make a donation: https://www.patreon.com/neuropsyche  
It's new, but you can request your own stories, there, if there's something you want to buy, or you can always make requests. No purchase necessary, of course - I'll always write


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